THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 


GOLD    MINE    SERIES    No.    2, 
Sequel  to  "  BLAOK  BEAUTY." 


A    PRIZE    STORY    OP    INDIANA. 


WRITTEN  FOE,  AWD  REVISED,  COPYRIGHTED, 
AND  PUBLISHED  BY  THE 

'AMERICAN  HUMANE  EDUCATION  SOCIETY." 


For  prices,  etc.,  write  Geo.  T.  Angell,  President, 
19  Milk  Street,  Boston. 


COPTRIGHT,  1893, 
BY 

The  American  Humane  Education  Society, 


All  rights  reserved. 


TUFTS  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 


I 


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Seaverns 

SF 

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S77 

1893 

1^^  All  humane  persons  who  read  and  become 
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with  power  to  hold  half  a  million  of  dollars  free  from 
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GEO.  T.  ANGELL, 

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Massachusetts  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to 
Animals,  and  the  Parent  American  Band  of  Mercy,  19 
Milk  Street,  Boston. 

On  the  last  pages  of  this  book  will  be  found  much 
information. 


The  American  Humane  Education  Society. 


GEO.  T.  ANGELL,  President. 

JOSEPH  L.  STEVENS,  Sec'y  and  Ass't  Treas, 

Hon.  henry  O.  HOUGHTON,  Treasurer, 

(OF  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  <Sr  CO.) 


THE   AMERICAN   HUMANE   EDDCATION   SOCIETY. 

^^  The  first  and  only  Society  of  its  kind  in  the  "World. 

The  American  Humane  Education  Society  was  incorpor- 
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Continent. 


] 


AMElilCAX  HUM  AXE  EDUCATION  SOCIETY, 

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Among  them  are  Hon.  Henry  0.  Houghton^  senior  partner 
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of  Boston ;  the  Bight  Bev.  William  Lawrence,  the  Episcopal 
Bishop  of  Massachusetts ;  Bev.  Francis  E.  Clark,  President  of 
^'' The  Societies  of  Christian  Endeavor ;  ^''  Mrs.  F.  W.  Vander- 
bilt,  of  New  York  City ;  Miss  Sarah  J.  Eddy,  of  Providence, 
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Among  the  w^ork  already  accomplished  by  it  in  the  last 
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different  parts  of  our  country,  and  many  thousands  of 
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AMEEICAN  HUMANE  EDUCATION  SOCIETY, 

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thousands  of  copies  of  their  publications  containing 
articles  taken  from  it. 

It  has  offered  prizes  to  all  the  college  students  of  America 
for  best  essays  on  the  importance  of  humane  education  in 
our  higher  institutions  of  learning. 

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education. 

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parts  of  South  America,  Europe,  and  Asia. 

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millions  of  pages  of  humane  literature. 

This  is  only  a  partial  statement  of  the  work  already 
accomplished  by  the  '''•  American  Humane  Education  Society  " 
within  the  past  four  years. 

All  persons  wishing  further  information  as  to  its  plans 


AAIEIUCAX  HUMANE  EDUCATION  SOCIETY. 

iiud  purposes  will  receive  prompt  answers  by  writing  the 
undersigned,  and  all  wishing  to  send  checks  or  remittances 
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Boston,  or  to  the  undersigned. 

All  such  will  be  most  thankfully  received  and  acknow- 
ledged in  the  columns  of  '■'■  Our  Dumb  Animals,-'  which  goes, 
among  others,  to  the  editor  of  every  newspaper  and  magazine  in 
North  America  north  of  Mexico,  and  will  be  sent  regularly  to 
all  making  such  remittances. 

Geo.  T.  Angell, 

President  of  the  American  Humane  Education  Society,  the 
Massachusetts  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty 
to  Animals,  and  the  Parent  American  Band  of  Mercy, 
19  Milk  Street,  Boston. 


"THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S." 


INTRODUCTORY.     , 

I  I  I  HIS  story  is  intended  to  point  out  in  a  homely  way 
W  I  some  of  the  mistaken  ideas  held  by  men  in  general 
®J^®  in  regard  to  the  relations  existing  between  the 
human  race  and  the  lower  animals  and  birds. 

The  popular  remedy  of  the  laboring  classes  of  the  pres- 
ent age,  when  the  conditions  of  their  employment  become 
oppressive,  is  to  inaugurate  a  strike;  and  in  the  following 
narrative  sufficient  intelligence  has  been  accorded  to  the 
lower  animals  to  enable  them  to  employ  the  methods  of 
human  toilers  in  righting  their  wrongs. 

It  is  true  the  relation  of  employer  and  employee  does 
not  exist  between  man  and  his  domestic  animals,  but  rather 
that  of  master  and  slave ;  and  until  the  law-making  power 
takes  some  measures  to  regulate  and  restrain  man's  domin- 
ion over  them,  it  is  left  for  the  educators  of  the  times  to 
appeal  to  an  awakened  conscience  for  an  amelioration  of 
their  condition. 

Men  are  often  blinded  by  the  glitter  of  gold  to  the  bless- 
ings that  God  has  given  us,  and  forget  that  our  dominion 
over  the  lower  animals  was  given  by  a  decree  of  the 
Almighty,  and  that  that  dominion  should  be  exercised  in 
the  same  spirit  that  God  exercises  his  ruling  power  over  us. 
The  following  pages  are  intended  to  show  the  results  that 
would  naturally  follow  if  the  support  and  assistance  given  u§ 
by  the  loioer  animals  and  birds  should  be  withdrawn^  as  wozild 
J>e  the  case  if  they  should  exercise  the  same  rights  claimed  by 

human  toilers  and  go  on  a  stnke. 

Author. 


s^ 


THE   STRIKE   AT   SHANE'S. 


CHAPTER   I. 


EE  up,  there,  Dobbin  !  Whoop  ! "  With  a 
shout  that  rang  through  the  forest  Tom 
Shane  let  the  heavy  "  black  snake  "  whip 
fall  on  the  flanks  of  the  two  willing  horses. 
Again  and  again  the  heavy  whip  fell  on  the  "  o^'" 
horse,  which  was  apparently  unable  to  "pull  even" 
with  the  younger  liorse  on  the  "near"  side.  The 
horses  tugged  at  the  traces,  and  floundered  about  in 
the  mud,  but  were  unable  to  move  the  heavy  load  to 
which  they  were  hitched. 

"Be  aisy  there  now,  Tom,  will  ye?  It's  stuck  ye 
are  now,  sure  enough,"  said  an  Irishman  who  came 
up  just  then. 

"It's  all  on  account  of  that  lazy  Dobbin,"  said  Tom, 
"he  didn't  pull  a  pound." 

"Arrah,  there  now,  it's  forgettin'  the  age  o'  the 
horse  ye  are.  Sure^  there  icasn't  a  horse  on  the  j>/«c6 
L'ould  pull  irid  him  u:hrn  he  was  younger.  It's  gettin' 
along  in  the  years  I  am  mesilf ,  an'  age  will  be  wearin' 
the  strength  o'  a  horse  the  same  as  a  man.  Let  'em 
stand  'til  I  get  a  bit  of  a  pry  under  the  wheel.** 

He  procured  a  fence  rail,  and  proceeded  to  put  it  un- 


4  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANKS, 

der  the  wheel  as  a  lever  to  lift  it  a  little  out  of  the 
''chuck  hole  "where  it  Jiad  stopped.  Those  who  are 
familiar  with  the  ungravelled  roads  of  Indiana  in 
former  years  need  not  be  told  what  a  "chuck  hole"  is  ; 
but  to  those  not  experienced  in  such  matters  it  might 
be  explained  that  heavy  hauling  over  these  roads  will 
wear  deep  holes  with  sharp  edges,  and  when  the  wheel 
of  a  loaded  wagon  drops  into  one  of  these  holes  it  is 
very  difficult  to  pull  it  out.  Thanks  to  an  increased 
population,  such  roads  are  not  so  numerous  as  they 
were  in  former  years,  and  teaming  is  not  necessarily 
such  a  horse-killing  business  as  it  used  to  be. 

"Now,  will  ye  give  'em  another  pull?"  said  Mike, 
who  had  his  "  bit  of  a  pry"  under  the  wheel,  and  was 
dangling  on  the  end  of  it  doing  his  best  to  lift  the 
wheel  a  little. 

"Give  'em  a  sclimall  taste  of  the  whip,  to  encourage 
'em  a  little,"  he  cried. 

Again  the  whip  was  unsparingly  used  by  Tom,  and 
the  two  horses  exerted  all  their  powers,  but  only  suc- 
ceeded in  moving  the  wagon  enough  to  let  Mike's  pry 
slip  out,  and  he  came  sprawling  down  in  the  mud. 
But  more  serious  results  had  followed.  Old  Dobbin  was 
down,  and  Tom,  in  his  anger,  was  cutting  him  with  his 
whip  to  make  him  get  up. 

"Hould  on  there,  bye,"  shouted  Mike,  coming  for- 
ward, covered  with  mud.  "Ye  wouldn't  sthrike  a  man 
whin  he's  down ;  thin  why  don't  ye  show  the  same 
dacency  to  a  dumb  brute  !  Unhitch  the  chains  there  ; 
don't  you  see  the  ould  horse  is  chokin'  ? " 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  ft 

*' Little  do  I  care  if  he  dies,"  said  Tom,  as  he 
ungraciously  assisted  in  extricating  him.  *'  Here  it  is 
comin'  night,  an'  this  load  stuck  here  in  the  middle  of 
the  road  all  on  account  of  that  old  brute.'* 

"It's  the  fault  o'  yer  feyther,  it  is;  for  if  he'd  be 
doin'  the  right  thing  by  old  Dobbin  he'd  give  'im  the 
run  o'  the  pasture  for  the  rist  of  his  days  widout  a  bit 
of  the  work  to  do.  It's  goin'  on  twinty  years  since  he 
was  broke  to  the  harness,  an'  that's  afore  you  was 
borned,"  said  Mike. 

"  Come,  old  fellow,  get  up  ;"  and  he  assisted  the  old 
horse  to  his  feet. 

"Hello,  there,  what's  up?"  shouted  the  driver  of  a 
team  that  had  come  up  behind. 

"  Sure,  an'  it's  stuck  in  the  mud  we  are,"  said  Mike. 
"An'  it's  glad  we  are  to  see  ye,  Mr.  Tracy,  if  ye'll 
give  us  a  pull  at  the  ind  o'  the  tongue  wid  thim  beau- 
tiful horses  o'  yourn." 

"  Ah,  it's  Shane's  team  ! "  said  Mr.  Tracy,  "and  old 
Dobbin  has  been  down.  Shane  never  will  learn  when 
a  horse  is  used  up.  He's  had  twenty  years  good  ser- 
vice out  of  that  horse  and  isn't  satisfied  yet.  That's  a 
good  load  for  four  horses  over  such  roads  as  these." 

"That's  thrue,"  said  Mike,  '•''hut  Shane  niver  slnds 
four  horses  to  do  the  ivork  he  can  get  out  of  two.'* 

j\Ir.  Tracy's  team  was  soon  hitched  to  the  end  of  the 
tongue,  and  the  four  horses  easily  pulled  the  wagon  out 
of  the  mud. 

"The  old  horse  is  winded,"  said  Mr.  Tracy,  "  and 
can  never  pull  that  load  home.     It's  a  shame  to  treat 


6  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S, 

:i  faithful  old  horse  in  that  manner.  You  liad  better 
pull  out  to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  come  back  in  the 
morning  with  a  better  team.'* 

Mr.  Tracy's  advice  was  taken,  as  it  was  evident  that 
old  Dobbin  was  about  used  up. 

About  twenty-five  years  pre^ious  to  this  time  John 
Shane  had  moved  to  Indiana,  and  had  bought  a  small 
farm,  on  which  he  built  a  saw  mill;  and  by  running 
the  mill  in  winter  and  farming  in  summer  he  had  added 
to  his  possessions- until  he  was  now  the  owner  of  two 
hundred  acres  of  fine  farm  land.  He  had  been  a  hard- 
working man,  and  was  now  considered  a  well-equipped 
and  prosperous  farmer.  He  was  a  hard  man  to  deal 
with,  and  always  aimed  to  make  a  dollar  where  other 
people  made  a  dime. 

It  was  a  favorite  maxim  of  his  that  nothing  should 
stay  on  the  farm  that  did  not  more  than  pay  expenses. 

There  was  not  a  beast  or  fowl  on  the  farm  but  what 
his  careful  eye  was  on  it,  and  everything  must  bring  in 
money  or  its  fate  was  sealed. 

Avarice  held  full  sway  over  his  mind,  and  there  was 
no  room  in  his  nature  for  kindness.  Everything  on 
the  place  felt  the  effects  of  his  ill-temper — even  his 
family  did  not  always  escape.  His  son  Tom  had,  to 
a  great  degree,  absorbed  his  father's  sentiments,  al- 
though a  good  boy  at  heart.  A  boy's  character  is 
often  ruined  by  his  early  training,  and  Tom  was  guilty 
of  many  acts  of  cruelty  to  dumb  animals  which  he 
did  not  know  were  wrong,  simply  because  his  father 
had  set  him  that  kind  of  example.     He  did  not  know 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  7 

that  lie  was  violating  any  rule  of  humanity  Dy  such 
aqts,  because  his  thoughts  had  not  been  directed  in  that 
channel. 

Altogether  the  animals  on  Shane's  farm  had  a  pretty 
hard  time  of  it.'  There  were  two  redeeming  characters 
on  the  farm,  however,  and  they  were  Mrs.  Shane  and 
her  daughter  Edith.  Invariably  kind  and  gentle  in 
their  ways,  they  were  loved  by  everything  on  the  farm, 
and  their  righteous  indignation  would  sometimes  get 
the  better  of  their  judgment,  and  they  would  speak 
their  minds  about  the  cruelties  practised  by  father  and 
son.  They  would  usually  meet  with  the  reply  that 
"Women  had  better  keep  still  about  things  that  don't 
consarn  'em."  And  John  Shane  said,  "Nothin'  made 
him  madder  than  for  a  woman  to  interfere  when  he  was 
dealin'  with  his  animals." 

Tom,  ha^^ng  arrived  at  home,  and  put  the  horses  in 
the  stable,  came  into  the  house,  just  as  the  family 
were  sitting  down  to  the  supper  table. 

*' You  are  late  to-night,  Tom,"  said  Shane.  "Has 
anything  gone  wrong  ?  " 

"Yes,  everything's  gone  wrong,"  answered  Tom,  in 
a  surly  mood ;  "and  if  I  can't  have  a  better  team  to 
work  T\qth  I  won't  do  any  more  teamin'." 

"Come,  sir,"  said  his  father,  "none  of  that  kind 
of  talk — I  won't  have  it.  What's  the  matter  with 
the  team?" 

"  Why,  enough's  the  matter,"  said  Tom.  "We  got 
stuck  in  the  mud  down  by  Ford's,  an'  old  Dobbin 
choked  down  an'  would'nt  pull  a  pound ; "   and  Tom 


8  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHAKE' 8, 

proceeded  to  tell  the  whole  affair  as  it  occurred,  not 
omitting  Mr.  Tracy's  remarks. 

"I  think  Tracy  had  better  mind  his  own  business 
and  leave  mine  alone,"  said  Shane,  a  little  piqued. 

*' Well,  if  he  had,  your  wagon  would  be  standing 
down  there  in  a  mud  hole  yet,"  said  Tom. 

*'That  ain't  what  I  mean,"  said  Shane.  "That's 
no  more  than  I'd  do  for  a  neighbor ;  but  I  know  a 
good  horse  as  well  as  Tracy  does ;  an'  my  horses  don't 
take  no  back  seat  for  his  neither." 

*'He  don't  drive  any  wind-broken  nor  worn-out 
horses,"  retorted  Tom. 

"  No  more  would  1  if  it  wasn't  for  your  mother,  who 
makes  me  keep  old  Dobbin." 

"Well,  John,"  said  Mrs.  Shane,  mildly,  "  yo?«  don't 
need  to  tcork  old  Dobbin  if  you  do  keep  him.  I  am 
sure,  as  Mr.  Tracy  says,  he  has  earned  a  rest  for  the 
balance  of  his  life.'* 

"You  know  my  principles,  Mary,  that  nothin'  shall 
stay  on  this  farm  that  don't  pay  expenses." 

'•^  I  brought  Dobbin  here  ivhen  I  married  yon,  John, 
and  here  he  is  going  to  stay  as  Jong  as  he  lives." 

Something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  touched  a  chord 
in  John  Shane's  heart  that  caused  his  memory  to  turn 
back  to  the  time  when  he  married  Mary.  He  was 
kind-hearted  and  happy  then  —  but  oh,  those  times 
were  different.  A  man  could'nt  afford  to  be  generous 
now  or  the  world  would  get  the  best  of  him.  But 
why? 

*'An'  I  say,  father,"  said  Tom,  breaking  in,  "if 


THE  STIiIKE  AT  SUANE\S.  0 

mother  insists  on  keeping  Dobbin,  let's  turn  him  out  to 
pasture.  It  won't  cost  much  to  keep  him,  an'  1  won't 
drive  a  broken-down  horse  for  people  to  make  remarks 
about." 

''  Especially  Cora  Tracy's  father,"  said  Edith. 

"No,  not  'especially'  anybody,"  said  Tom,  bri- 
dling up,  but  blushing  at  the  same  time. 

"Well,  we'll  see  about  it,"  said  Shane.  "  I  don't 
want  to  hear  any  more  about  it  to-night." 

Thus  he  put  the  matter  off,  hoping  that  the  event 
would  be  forgotten  by  morning,  and  that  nothing  more 
would  be  said  about  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 


H¥j  events  just  told  took  place  in  the  early 
spring,  just  at  the  time  when  the  spring 
work  was  commencing  on  the  farm.  The 
trees  were  beginning  to  put  forth  their 
leaves,  and  the  meadows  and  fields  were  green  with  the 
growing  grass.  The  violets  along  the  fence  rows  were 
turning  up  their  little  faces  to  the  warm  sun,  and  every 
"bird  familiar  to  the  climate  had  made  its  appearance. 
Their  joyous  songs  rang  through  the  woods  as  they 
flitted  hither  and  thither,  building  their  nests,  or  tiu*n- 
ing  over  the  leaves  looking  for  bugs  and  worms. 
There  was  no  ill-temper  displayed  by  these  dwellers  of 
the  forest  as  they  went  about  their  work,  seeking  a 
living,  or  building  their  nests  for  the  summer.  Why 
should  not  the  human  family  go  about  their  work  just 
as  joyously  as  the  birds  of  the  forest? 

"  Whistle  and  hoe,  sing  as  you  go, 
Shorten  the  row  by  the  songs  you  know.'* 

No  such  an  idea  as  this  had  ever  entered  John 
Shane's  head,  for  with  him  everything  was  bustle  and 
hurry. 

The  day  broke  bright  and  clear  on  the  morning  after 
Pobbin's  misfortune,  and  the  Shane  household  was  up 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  11 

with  the  sun  to  begin  their  daily  duties.  The  conver- 
sation of  the  previous  evening  had  been  forgotten  by 
Shane — or  at  least  thrust  into  the  background  by  more 
important  matters ;  and  as  he  hurried  to  the  barn  to 
look  after  the  feeding,  his  only  thought  was  how  to  get 
the  most  work  done  that  day.  He  walked  down  the 
row  of  stalls,  throwing  corn  into  the  feed  boxes,  until 
he  came  to  Dobbin's  stall,  w^hen  he  stopped  as  though 
thunderstruck.  Old  Dobbin  was  standing  with  his 
head  down,  wheezing  like  a  man  with  the  asthma. 

"Hello;  here's  a  fine  go,  right  in  the  busy  season. 
Just  my  everlastin'  bad  luck!"  he  exclaimed,  for  the 
appearance  of  Dobbin  indicated  a  severe  case  of  lung 
fever. 

Shane  never  gave  any  thought  to  the  comfort  of  his 
animals,  and  Tom  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  his 
father.  He  had  brought  Dobbin  home  wet  with  sweat, 
and  tied  him  in  his  stall  without  rubbing  him  down, 
and  such  a  thing  as  a  blanket  was  never  heard  of  in 
Shane's  stables.  Tom's  ill  temper  had  made  him  even 
forget  to  put  in  the  usual  bedding  of  clean  straw,  and 
the  result  was,  as  any  good  horseman  might  expect, 
that  Dobbin  had  taken  a  severe  cold. 

"  How  now,  Tom,"  cried  Shane,  as  Tom  entered  the 
barn,  "here's  a  nice  mess  you've  made  of  things." 

Tom  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  staring  at 
Dobbin ;  and  while  his  conscience  compelled  him  to 
feel  a  little  sympathy  for  the  old  horse's  sufferings,  yet 
he  had  the  secret  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  he  would 
not  have  to  drive  him  any  m^ore  for  a  few  days,  aiiv- 
how. 


12  THE  STItIKE  AT  SHAXE'S, 

"You  go  down  to  town  jin'  bring  up  Hodges,  an' 
see  what  lie  can  do  for  him,"  said  Shane. 

Had  he  known  what  would  be  the  result  of  this 
action,  he  would  rather  have  said,  "You  take  him 
down  to  the  woods  an'  put  a  bullet  in  his  brain."  But 
he  thought  Hodges  could  doctor  the  old  horse  up  so 
that  he  would  be  able  to  work  again. 

Shane  got  Dobbin  out  of  the  stable  in  the  meantime, 
although  he  was  so  stiff  he  could  scarcely  walk. 

Hodges,  the  veterinary  surgeon,  soon  came  and  said 
he  thought  he  could  cure  him,  but  that  he  didn't 
believe  he  would  ever  be  worth  much,  or  able  to  do 
much  hard  work  again. 

"AYell,  I'll  spend  no  money  on  him,"  said  Shane. 
"Here's  your  fee  for  this  time,  and  you  needn't  come 
any  more." 

"  iV/r.  Hodges j"  said  a  voice  behind  them,  ''you  can 
give  old  Dobbin  cdl  the  attention  he  needs,  and  I  icill 
see  that  you  are  paid.''  It  was  Mrs.  Shane,  who  had 
come  up  just  in  time  to  hear  Shane's  last  remark. 

Shane  growled  out  something  about  ' '  squandering- 
money,"  and  turning  on  his  heel,  went  to  the  barn. 

Hodges  left  medicine  with  Mrs.  Shane,  and  she  and 
Edith  got  the  old  horse  into  the  yard  and  wrapped  him 
up  in  an  old  quilt.  They  bathed  his  limbs  with  the 
ointment  left  by  Hodges,  and  Mrs.  Shane  held  his 
mouth  open  while  Edith  poured  in  the  medicine  for  him 
to  swallow. 

Dobbin's  condition  soon  became  known  throughout 
the  barnyard,  and  also  the  cause  of  it.     There  is  no 


THE  STUIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  13 

question  but  animals  do  have  some  means  of  communi- 
cating with  each  otlier.  How  it  is  done  we  do  not 
know.  All  migratonj  birds  and  foivls  hare  a  piihUc 
meeting  before  starting  on  their  Joirrrif^//.^  southward^ 
and  go  in  Jlocks.  It  is  interesting  to  watch  a  public 
gathering  of  crows,  and  see  the  dignified  manner  in 
which  they  will  carry  on  the  meeting  until  there  arises 
a  difference  of  opinion  on  some  point,  and  then  there 
commences  such  a  chattering  and  cawing,  and  rising  to 
points  of  order,  or  for  personal  explanation,  as  was 
never  heard  outside  of  a  session  of  congress.  But  in 
the  end  they  always  come  to  some  kind  of  a  decision — 
ichich  congress  does  not  always  do. 

It  is  said  that  the  eagles  of  southern  Indiana  have 
a  place  of  meeting  where  they  hold  an  annual  gathering, 
and  make  an  apportionment  of  the  country,  assigning 
to  each  pair  a  certain  territory  over  which  they  may 
hunt ;  and  this  meeting  of  eagles  has  never  been  known 
to  be  guilty  of  making  a  ger^-ymander ,  thereby  setting 
a  good  example  to  some  of  our  legislatures.  It  is  not 
necessary  for  me  to  enumerate  the  many  acts  of 
sagacity  of  our  domestic  animals  to  show  that  they 
have  some  means  of  communicating  ideas  from  one  to 
the  other. 

Old  Dobbin  was  a  favorite  with  everything  on  the 
farm,  and  the  news  of  his  misfortune  spread  in  a  short 
time,  and  was  a  matter  of  general  discussion  by  all  the 
animals.  Even  the  chickens  missed  him,  for  he  never 
objected  to  their  eating  a  few  grains  of  corn  out  of  his 
box ;  but  if  they  got  in  his  way  he  would  push  them 
gently  aside  with  his  nose. 


14  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

Even  John  Shane  missed  him,  but  it  was  the  result 
of  a  selfish  interest ;  for  here  was  his  team  broken  up, 
and  not  a  horse  on  the  place  to  take  his  place.  There 
was  no  use  of  talking  about  breaking  one  of  the  colts ; 
and  Bay  Dick  had  such  a  temx)er  that  he  couldn't  be 
worked  with  any  horse  hut  Dobbin.  If  he  should 
hitch  one  of  the  colts  up  with  Dick,  everything  would 
l)e  kicked  to  splinters  in  fiye  minutes. 

He  w^ent  among  his  neighbors  and  tried  to  hire  or 
buy  a  horse,  but  it  was  the  busy  season,  and  none  of 
them  cared  to  part  with  any  of  their  horses.  In  this 
way  he  spent  the  w4iole  day  and  succeeded  in  doing 
nothing  but  get  into  a  very  bad  temper. 

He  w^ent  down  to  the  field  w^here  Mike  was  plowing 
with  the  only  team  on  the  farm,  and  told  him  not  to 
spare  the  horses,  but  "  put  'em  through  from  daylight 
till  dark." 

''■Not  if  I  know  mesilf,"  said  Mike  to  himself,  as 
Shane  started  away.  "It's  not  such  a  fool  I  am  to 
overtax  me  ow^n  stringth  for  the  sake  of  getting  a 
little  more  work  out  of  the  horses." 

Shane  searched  far  and  wide  for  a  horse,  but  could 
find  none  at  that  season  of  the  year.  His  temper  grew 
worse  all  the  time.  Tom  didn't  escape  his  wrath  either  ; 
but  Tom  had  a  way  of  getting  even  by  taking  out  his 
spite  on  the  cattle  and  horses,  and  even  the  dog  and 
cat  did  not  entirely  escape  his  kicks  and  blows. 
And  his  leisure  time  was  spent  going  about  the  fields 
shooting  birds,  as  he  said  "for  practise." 

Things  w^ent  on  this  way  for  a  week  or  ten  days, 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  15 

when  Shane  conchided  to  try  breaking  one  of  the  colts. 
His  idea  of  breaking  a  colt  ivas  by  force,  and  the 
thought  never  entered  his  head  that  he  could  subdue  it 
by  gentleness.  The  strong-limbed,  beautiful  colt  was 
enticed  into  the  stable,  and  the  door  securely  fastened. 
A  rope  with  a  slip-noose  was  then  thrown  over  its 
head,  and  as  it  plunged  away  the  rope  tightened 
around  its  neck  until  it  was  choked  almost  into  insen- 
sibility. A  strong  bridle  was  then  placed  on  it  and 
the  noose  was  loosened.  After  being  pulled  around  and 
whipped  for  about  an  hour  the  colt  became  too  much 
exhausted  to  make  further  resistance,  and  Shane  held 
it  by  the  bit  w^hile  Tom  fitted  on  the  collar  and  harness. 
Bay  Dick  was  then  brought  out  and  hitched  to  the 
wagon,  and  the  colt  was  placed  alongside  of  him. 
Dick  resented  the  idea  of  being  hitched  with  a  colt,  and 
evinced  some  restlessness.  ^ '  Gettin'  frisky,  are  you ? " 
said  Shane,  and  he  gave  Dick  a  cut  with  the  whip 
which  raised  a  long  welt  on  his  side. 

Dick  laid  back  his  ears,  as  much  as  to  say,  ''  Til  get 
even  with  you  for  that." 

"  All  ready  ;  let  go  ! "  shouted  Shane,  and  Tom  re- 
leased the  colt's  head,  which  he  had  been  holding  by 
the  bit.  It  began  to  rear  and  plunge  about  in  its 
efforts  to  get  loose.  Dick  caught  the  excitement  of 
the  moment,  and  began  plunging  and  kicking  with  all 
his  might.  The  team  then  started  to  run,  dragging 
Shane  a  short  distance,  when  he  let  go, —  and  they 
sped  down  the  lane  like  a  hurricane.  The  wagon  was 
torn  to  pieces,  and  the  two  horses,  trying  to  jump  a 


16  THE  8TBIKE  AT  SHANE'S, 

fence,  went  clown  together,  and  were  tangled  up  in  the 
harness.  Shane  and  Tom  hastened  to  the  place  and 
extricated  them.  Dick  was  all  right,  hut  the  coJf's 
leg  icas  broken. 

"  Go  to  the  house  and  get  the  rifle,"  said  Shane. 

Tom  went;  and  when  he  came  back  Shane  put  a 
bullet  in  the  colt's  head,  saying,  "  It's  no  use  to  fool 
with  a  colt  with  a  broken  leg." 

Such  are  the  sentiments  of  many  whose  hearts  are 
closed  against  the  silent  appeals  of  our  dumb  animals. 

How  often  have  we  seen  the  look  of  pain  in  a  horse's 
eye  after  receiving  cruel  blows  for  failing  to  do  what 
was  impossible — a  look  which  almost  seemed  to  say, 
*'  God  forgive  them,  for  they  kriow  not  what  they  do!" 


CHAPTER   III. 


NDER  the  kind  treatment  of  Mrs.  Shane 
Dobbin  had  improved  rapidly,  and  was  able 
to  be  turned  out  in  the  pasture  ;  but  he  was 
still  stiff  in  the  joints  and  short  in  his  wind. 
Shane  had  succeeded  in  getting  a  man  from  the  village 
to  come  with  his  team  and  work  a  few  days,  but  he 
was  far  behind  his  neighbors  in  getting  his  corn  planted. 
This  soured  his  temper  more  than  anything  else,  for  he 
was  always  ahead  of  his  neighbors  in  his  work,  and  he 
blamed  it  all  to  "  his  everlastin'  bad  luck.'* 

From  this  time  on  he  hardly  gave  his  horses  time  to 
eat  and  sleep,  and  they  were  worked  down  almost  to 
skin  and  bone.  Dick's  temper  had  not  improved  any, 
and  he  bore  the  marks  of  the  whip  frequently;  for 
Shane  said  the  only  way  to  control  a  horse  was  to  make 
him  fear  you. 

About  this  time  it  became  known  about  the  farm 
that  Dobbin  had  called  a  meeting  of  all  the  animals  on 
the  farm  to  take  some  measures  for  the  amelioration  of 
their  condition.  This  meeting  was  to  be  held  on  the 
next  Sunday,  as  that  was  the  only  day  when  the  horses 
could  get  off. 

Now,  the  animals  did  not  know  exactly  what  was  to 
l)e  done  at  the  meeting  ;  but  they  had  great  confidence 


18  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

in  Dobbin,  and  attended  the  meeting  in  full  force.  It 
was  held  under  the  old  oak  tree  down  in  the  pasture 
beside  the  brook.  The  gathering  was  rather  a  surprise 
to  Dobbin,  for  he  had  not  expected  so  many.  He  had 
given  notice  that  all  the  useful  animals  and  fowls  of 
the  farm  should  be  present,  and  as  the  result  all  the 
horses,  cattle,  sheep  and  swine  were  there,  and  all  the 
chickens,  turkeys,  ducks  and  geese  had  sent  representa- 
tives. Towser,  the  dog,  and  puss,  the  cat,  were  there 
in  person.  All  the  birds  of  the  forest  had  sent  repre- 
sentatives, and  there  were  also  representatives  from 
the  snakes  and  toads. 

It  was  with  some  apprehension  that  Dobbin  took 
charge  of  this  great  gathering,  as  it  was  the  first  time 
he  had  ever  attempted  to  preside  over  a  public  meeting, 
and  he  would  have  found  himself  alflicted  with  a  trem- 
bling of  the  knees  if  his  knees  had  not  been  too  stiff 
to  tremble.  More  than  that,  he  was  doubtful  if  all  the 
representatives  present  were  entitled  to  seats  in  the 
convention ;  but  he  concluded  to  take  the  matter  in  his 
own  hands  without  appointing  a  committee  on  creden- 
tials—probably owing  to  the  fact  that  he  never  heard  of 
such  a  committee.  He  concluded  to  take  the  most 
difficult  problem  under  consideration  first,  and  called 
on  the  snakes  and  toads  to  state  their  claims  to  sit  in 
the  convention. 

''We  are  not  animals,"  said  one  of  the  toads, 
"  neither  are  we  fowls ;  but  we  do  claim  to  be  useful. 
We  destroy  many  noxious  insects  that  would  injure  the 
crops  grown  on  the  farm.     In  fact,  we  live  entirely  on 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  10 

insects  —  such  as  flies,  roaches,  mosquitoes,  worms,  aucl 
bugs,  that  would  destroy  agricultural  crops.  And  we 
have  been  treated  "  — 

"  Never  mind  how  you  have  been  treated,"  said  Dob- 
])iu,  "we  will  hear  that  further  on,  I  believe  your 
statements  to  be  true,  and  will  allow  3^ou  to  remain  in 
the  convention." 

"And  we,"  said  one  of  the  snakes,  "live  on  insects 
the  same  as  the  toad,  and  assist  in  protecting  the  crops 
from  these  pests." 

"Yes,"  said  the  toad,  "you  sometimes  make  a  meal 
on  one  of  my  species." 

"I  admit  that  such  things  have  been  done,  but  1 
have  never  been  guilty  of  such  a  crime,"  said  the 
snake. 

"  Is  not  your  bite  poisonous,  and  are  you  not  a  dan- 
gerous fellow  to  have  about?"  inquired  Dobbin. 

"An  entirely  mistaken  idea,"  said  the  snake  ;  '■^  there 
is  but  one  poisonous  snake  in  the  State,  and  that  is  the 
rattle-snake.  We  do  not  associate  with  them  at  all. 
Although  our  teeth  are  sharp,  we  have  no  poison  fangs, 
and  our  bite  is  no  more  dangerous  than  the  prick  of  a 
needle.  For  the  proof  of  this  I  refer  you  to  any 
scientific  investigator  of  the  age." 

"Well,  we  will  accept  your  statements  as  true,  and 
allow  you  to  remain  in  the  convention,"  said  Dobbin. 

"Bravo  ! "  shouted  some  one  in  the  rear,  and  Dobbin 
looked  around  and  saw  a  long-eared  mule. 

' '  Hello !  by  what  right  are  you  here  ? "  inquired 
Dobbin. 


20  TltE  STlilKE  AT  SJIAXE'S. 

''By  the  right  of  my  abiHty  to  get  here,"  said  the 
inule.  "  I  am  at  present  a  free  and  independent  char- 
acter in  this  community,  and  seeing  you  assembled 
here  I  thought  I  would  come  over  and  see  what  the 
caucus  was  about." 

"May  I  ask  where  you  belong?"  inquired  Dobbin. 

"I  was  formerly  emplo^^ed  by  a  street  car  company 
of  Indianapolis.  I  received  too  many  kicks  and  blows 
and  too  much  hard  work  for  the  amount  of  food  I  got, 
so  I  escaped  from  the  stables  and  came  out  in  the 
country  for  a  vacation,"  said  the  mule. 

"  Well,"  said  Dobbin,  "if  you  stay  here  j^ou  will  not 
be  likely  to  find  your  condition  any  better." 

"Nevermind  about  me,"  said  the  mule.  "It's  just 
as  easy  to  jump  out  of  the  field  as  it  was  to  jump  in ; 
and  if  farmer  Shane  tries  to  capture  me,  he'll  find  I'm 
something  of  a  kicker."  , 

"That  maybe,"  said  Dobbin,  "but  you  will  find 
that  farmer  Shane  is  something  of  a  kicker  too,  as  all 
the  animals  on  the  farm  can  testify." 

' '  We  will  now  proceed  with  the  business  of  the  meet- 
ino; ,"  said  Dobbin,  "and  will  call  on  all  the  assembled 
company  to  state  their  grievances  and  make  suggestions 
for  the  remedy." 

The  cow  was  called  upon. 

' '  My  troubles  are  not  as  serious  as  those  of  some 
others  on  the  farm ;  but  I  don't  think  I  have  been 
treated  fairly,"  said  the  cow.  "  I  give  all  the  milk  for 
the  family,  and  don't  begrudge  them  any  of  it,  yet 
when  they  took  my  calf  from  me  I  couldn't  help  but 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  21 

worry  about  it,  and  once  I  jumped  the  fence  to  get  to 
it.  Then  Tom  came  with  a  ckib  and  beat  me,  and  set 
Towser  on  me.  I  don't  think  that  Towser  is  a  bit  bet- 
ter than  Tom." 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  I  want  to. say  a  word  here,"  said 
Towser,  coming  forward.  "I  admit  that  I  have 
chased  all  the  cattle,  horses  and  hogs  on  the  farm ;  but 
I  have  to  do  what  my  master  commands  me  to  do,  for 
if  I  don't  I  will  get  kicks  and  blows.  I  haven't 
inflicted  any  serious  injury  on  any  of  you,  for  my  bark 
has  alwa^^s  been  worse  than  my  bite." 

"AYe  must  not  always  judge  each  other  by  our 
actions,"  said  Dobbin,  "  for  we  are  sometimes  com- 
pelled to  do  things  that  we  would  not  do  if  left  to  our 
own  free  wills." 

"More  than  that,"  continued  the  cow,  "that  good- 
for-nothing  Tom  beats  me  and  kicks  me  when  he  comes 
to  milk  me.  He  puts  my  neck  in  a  stall  where  I  can't 
turn  my  head  around,  and  if  I  switch  my  tail  to  keep 
the  flies  off  he  gets  mad  and  beats  me.  Why,  last  night 
he  tied  my  tail  to  my  leg  so  that  I  could  not  switch  the 
flies,  and  a  fly  got  on  my  back  and  bit  me  terribly.  I 
couldn't  switch  it  off  with  my  tail,  nor  scare  it  off  with 
my  head.  I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  and  then  I 
kicked  up  with  both  of  my  feet.  I  only  aimed  to  scare 
the  fly  away,  but  some  way  I  kicked  Tom  over  and 
spilled  the  bucket  of  milk  all  over  him,  and  I'm  carry- 
ing the  bruises  on  me  where  he  beat  me  for  it.  I  don't 
give  down  my  milk  very  well  sometimes,  but  what  en- 
couragement is  there  for  a  cow  that  is  tx'eated  in  that 
manner  ?  '* 


22  THE  ST  HIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

When  the  cow  had  finished,  Bay  Dick  was  called  on. 

"I  don't  intend  to  stand  this  treatment  any  longer," 
said  Dick.  "A  horse  don't  get  anything  but  blows  on 
this  farm,  whether  he  does  right  or  wrong.  I  know  I've 
got  a  fiery  temper,  and  always  aim  to  take  my  own 
part.  I'm  sorry  I  ran  away  the  other  day  and  broke 
the  colt's  leg,  but  that's  done  and  can't  be  helped.  But 
one  thing  is  certain,  I  don't  intend  to  submit  to  this 
treatment  any  longer." 

The  other  horses  all  said  "bravo,"  and  "that's 
right." 

' '  I'd  be  willing  to  do  my  share  of  the  work  if  I  was 
treated  right,"  he  continued  ;  "  but  I  get  nothing  but 
kicks  and  cuffs,  and  never  a  kind  word.  And  there's 
that  Tom  has  been  driving  me  every  Sunday  night 
down  to  Tracy's  place.  He  ties  me  to  a  strong  post 
out  in  the  road,  imth  my  head  2mlled  away  hack  with 
the  check-rein^  so  that  I  can't  get  my  head  down  to 
rest  it.  Then  he  goes  into  the  house  and  stays  until 
ten  or  eleven  o'clock^  ivhile  I  stand  there  and  shiver 
ivith  the  cold.  If  he  would  just  put  a  blanket  over  me 
I  wouldn't  suffer  so  much  ;  but  it's  little  he  ever  t»hinks 
of  our  comfort.  I  tried  to  break  loose  and  come  home, 
but  I  couldn't.  You  all  know  what  old  Dobbin  has, 
suffered  at  their  hands,  and  that's  what  we'll  all  come 
to  in  the  end." 

This  speech  was  indorsed  by  them  all. 

' '  I  don't  know  that  I  have  any  grievance  to  speak 
of,"  said  a  pig.  "I  have  a  pretty  good  time.  It's 
true  I  sometimes  get  through  a  hole  in  the  fence,  and 
then  Towser — 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  23 

''There  it  goes  again,"  said  Towser.  "Always 
blaming  me  for  something  I  can't  help." 

"As  I  said,"  continued  the  pig,  "I  haven't  much 
to  complain  of,  but  if  I  can  do  anything  to  help  the 
rest  of  you  I  will  do  it." 

' '  There's  a  hole  in  the  garden  fence  w'here  my  chick- 
ens would  get  in  last  summer,  and  then  I  would  have  to 
go  in  and  watch  them,"  said  a  hen.  Then  some  of  the 
other  hens  would  get  in,  and  Tom  would  come  and 
throw  stones  at  us.  He  killed  tw^o  of  my  chickens  and 
broke  my  wing.  Sometimes  he  w^ould  set  Towser  on 
us  —  " 

"There  now,  I  won't  stand  it  any  longer,"  said 
Towser,  bristling  up. 

"Order,  order!"  shouted  Dobbin;  and  Towser  lay 
down  again. 

"I'm  kicked  and  cu.ffed  day  in  and  day  out,"  mewed 
Puss.  "I  try  to  catch  all  the  rats  and  mice  I  can,  but 
it  don't  do  any  good." 

"Am  I  allowed  to  speak?"  asked  a  quail  which  had 
hopped  up  on  the  fence. 

"What  reason  can  you  give  for  appearing  in  this 
meeting,"  asked  Dobbin. 

"For  the  reason  that  I  live  on  insects,  and  bugs, 
and  worms,  which  would  be  destructive  to  the  farmer's 
crops.  I  speak  for  all  classes  of  birds.  It  is  true  that 
w^e  eat  a  little  fniit  and  grain,  but  that  is  nothing  in 
comparison  to  the  great  benefits  the  farmer  receives 
from  us.  We  have  added  greatly  to  the  prosperity  of 
the  farm,  yet  our  nests  are  destroyed,  our^oung  killed, 


24  THE  STllIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

and  the  merciless  guns  of  both  Shane  and  his  sou  are 
popping  away  at  us  all  the  time." 

"That  being  the  ease,  all  birds  that  destroy  trouble- 
some insects  are  admitted  to  the  convention,"  said 
Dobbin. 

There  being  no  more  speakers,  Dobbin  said  the  con- 
vention would  take  a  recess  for  five  minutes,  and  go 
down  to  the  brook  and  get  a  drink,  after  which  they 
would  discuss  the  matter  as  to  the  best  and  most  con- 
venient remedy  for  the  evils  existing  on  the  farm. 


<^*^ 


CHAPTER   IV. 


HE  meeting  hriving  re-assembled,  Dobbin 
called  for  suggestions  as  to  the  proper 
remedy  for  their  misfortunes,  and  the 
proper  course  to  pursue.  All  were  silent 
but  Bay  Dick^  who  was  in  favor  of  kicking  everything 
to  pieces  on  the  farm,  and  to  show  how  it  w^as  to  be 
done  he  wheeled  around  and  kicked  the  top  rail  off  the 
fence. 

"If  you  wdll  allow  me  to  make  a  suggestion,"  said 
the  mule,  "perhaps  I  could  give  you  some  ideas  on  this 
subject." 

"  We  will  hear  what  you  have  to  say,"  said  Dobbin. 

"I  have  been  in  the  service  of  the  street  car  com- 
pany for  several  years,"  said  the  mule,  "and  I  know 
when  the  street  car  drivers  got  dissatisfied  with  their 
wages  they  went  on  a  strike.  That  is,  they  quit  work 
until  their  difficulties  were  fixed  np  in  some  way,  and 
they  got  what  they  wanted.  I  know  we  mules  had  an 
easy  time  of  it  while  the  strike  lasted.  Now,  why 
couldn't  you  all  go  out  on  a  strike  and  refuse  to  work 
until  you  get  better  treatment  ?  " 

"That  would  probably  result  in  more  blows  and 
worse  treatment  instead  of  better,"  said  Dobbin. 


20  THE  STRIKE  AT  SIMILE'S, 

*'No,"  said  the  mule,  *'if  farmer  Shaae  had  to  do 
without  you  for  a  while  he  would  perhaps  begin  to 
appreciate  your  services,  and  would  come  to  his  senses 
and  treat  you  better.'* 

After  some  further  discussion  this  plan  grew  in 
favor  and  was  adopted,  and  the  mule  which  had  been 
in  the  street  car  strike  gave  them  full  instructions  how 
to  proceed. 

"I'll  not  do  another  day's  work,'  said  Dick,  "and 
I'll  kick  everything  to  pieces  they  hitch  me  to." 

"Hold  on  there,"  said  the  mule,  "no  violence  to 
persons  or  property.  That  was  the  rule  in  the  street 
car  strike.  Just  quit  work  and  let  farmer  Shane  get 
along  the  best  he  can." 

"That's  right,"  said  Dobbin,  "no  \dolence  in  this 
strike." 

"Well,  I'll  do  the  best  I  can  to  keep  cool,"  said 
Dick,  "but  they  mustn't  push  me  too  far." 

"Now,  we  will  hear  from  each  member  as  to  the 
course  they  intend  to  pursue,"  said  Dobbin. 

"As  for  my  part,"  said  Dick,  who  was  highly 
delighted  with  the  plan,  "I  shall  pretend  to  be  very 
lame,  and  stiff  in  my  shoulders." 

"Considering  your  high  temper,"  said  the  mule, 
"perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  locate  your 
lameness  in  your  hind  legs." 

"Not  much,"  said  Dick,  "I  may  have  occasion  to 
use  my  heels  before  I  get  through  this  if  they  use  me 
too  severely." 

"  I  shall  stay  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  pasture, 


THE  8TBIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  2T 

and  make  Tom  come  after  me  every  night  instead  of 
going  up  to  the  barn  to  be  milked,  as  I  have  always 
done,"  said  the  cow,  "and  I  shall  give  just  as  little 
milk  as  possible." 

The  other  horses  all  agreed  to  feign  some  kind  of 
sickness  to  avoid  work. 

"I  will  not  do  anything  that  I  can  get  out  of,"  said 
Towser,  "if  I  have  to  chase  any  of  you,  you  needn't 
get  scared,  for  I'll  not  hurt  you.  There  is  one  thing 
that  I  have  always  done,  and  that  is,  kill  the  moles  in 
the  yard  and  garden.  They  burrow  under  the  ground, 
where  puss  can't  get  at  them,  and  I  have  always  made 
it  a  point  to  watch  for  them  and  kill  them.  I  will  not 
kill  another  mole  if  they  destroy  all  the  garden." 

"I  will  not  kill  another  rat  or  mouse  on  the  farm,  if 
they  eat  up  all  the  grain,"  said  Puss. 

"Thank  you  for  that,"  said  a  big  rat,  that  came  up 
out  of  a  fence  corner,  where  he  had  been  hiding  and 
listening. 

^ '  I  want  you  to  understand  that  it  is  not  out  of  any 
consideration  or  respect  I  have  for  you  that  I  made 
that  statement,"  said  Puss,  and  she  walked  over 
towards  the  rat,  who  immediately  dropped  back  into 
his  hole. 

"Quite  right  and  proper,"  said  Dobbin ;  "we  want 
no  such  characters  in  this  convention." 

The  snake  and  toad  said  they  would  move  over  to 
the  next  farm. 

* '  I  shall  move  off  the  farm  just  as  soon  as  my  mate 
gets  well  of  a  wound  received  the  other  day  from  a 


28  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE' 8, 

shot  from  Shane's  gun,"  said  the  quail,  '*  and  I  prom- 
ise you  that  no  quail  shall  come  on  this  farm  this 
summer." 

"  I  have  a  grievance  against  farmer  Shane  myself," 
said  a  hawk,  that  had  perched  unseen  on  the  top  of  the 
oak,  ''  and  I  will  agree  to  kill  all  the  chickens  on  the 
farm." 

' '  Put  him  out !  put  him  out !  "  screamed  the  hen  ; 
and  the  other  birds  quickly  sought  cover. 

"I'll  fix  him,"  said  the  kingbird,  and  he  made  a 
quick  dash  at  the  hawk,  and  struck  him  in  the  back 
with  his  sharp  beak. 

"I'll  help,"  said  the  crow;  and  between  them  they 
soon  drove  the  hawk  away. 

"I  spend  almost  the  whole  of  my  time  catching 
worms  and  bugs,"  chirped  the  robin.  "It  is  true, 
that  is  the  way  I  make  my  living,  but  those  worms 
would  destroy  many  dollars'  worth  of  crops.  Last 
summer  almost  my  whole  family  was  killed  by  Shane 
because  we  took  a  few  cherries,  and  I  promise  you 
there  shall  not  a  robin  remain  on  the  farm  nor  catch  a 
worm  on  it  this  summer.'* 

So  said  all  the  birds ;  and  it  was  then  and  there 
arranged  that  there  should  be  a  general  emigration  of 
birds  from  the  Shane  farm. 

"  Am  I  in  this?"  asked  the  crow,  who  had  returned 
from  driving  the  hawk  away,  which  he  had  chased 
clear  over  to  the  adjoining  farm. 

"Well,  that's  questionable,"  said  Dobbin.  But  owing 
to  the  fact  that  the  crow  had  chased  away  the  hawk, 


1 


THE  STB  IKE  AT  SHANE'S.  29 

Dobbin  was  disposed  to  look  more  kindly  on  him  than 
he  otherwise  would. 

"Ah!  you  black  rogue,"  said  the  hen,  "you  stole 
an  egg  out  of  my  nest  yesterday.  I  saw  you  fly  away 
with  it." 

"  I  admit  it,"  said  the  crow;  "  but  I  drove  away  a 
lat  that  was  just  about  to  steal  it,  and  I  thought  I 
might  take  the  egg  as  a  reward  for  driving  the  rat 
away.  Besides,  I  drive  away  hawks  which  would  steal 
chickens,  and  I  kill  a  great  many  grub  worms,  and  cut- 
worms, and  ground  mice,"  continued  the  crow,  "  and 
if  I'm  a  part  of  this  strike  I'll  not  kill  any  more  such 
pests,  and  more  than  that,  I'll  move  off  the  farm  and 
let  the  hawks  kill  all  Shane's  chickens." 

"Oh!  come  now,"  said  the  hen,  "let's  compro- 
mise ;  you  stay  here  and  keep  the  hawks  away,  and 
I'll  give  you  an  egg  now  and  then." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  crow  ;  "  I'll  agree  to  anything 
to  get  into  good  society." 

"I  have  a  few  words  to  say,"  said  the  blackbird; 
"  I'm  black  hke  the  crow,  but  I  don't  steal  eggs." 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  saw  you  pulling  up  corn  down  in  the 
field  yesterday,  which  is  just  as  bad,"  said  Dobbin. 

"  Quite  mistaken,  I  assure  you,"  said  the  blackbird. 
Sometimes  I  pull  up  a  sprout  of  corn,  but  it  is  to  get 
at  the  grub  worm  which  is  at  the  root.  If  I  did  not 
pull  it  up  the  grub  would  destroy  it  anyhow,  so  in  the 
end  no  harm  is  done  by  me,  but  much  good,  for  I 
destroy  a  worm  that  would  have  destroyed  many  stalks 
of  corn  before  the  season  is  over.     We  cannot  destroy 


30  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S, 

all  the  grubworms  and  cutworms  that  are  in  the  corn- 
fields, for  they  are  imder  ground  and  we  cannot  get  at 
them.  We  follow  the  plow  in  the  spring  and  get  all 
the  worms  that  it  turns  up.  We  follow  in  the  summer 
and  get  all  the  worms  that  the  cultivator  brings  to  the 
surface.  Thousands  of  crickets  and  grasshoppers  are 
destroyed  by  us  which  would  injure  the  wheat  and  grass 
crops.  Hundreds  of  my  species  have  been  killed  by 
Shane,  and  I  will  promise  you  that  not  a  worm  nor  an 
insect  shall  be  killed  by  a  blackbird  on  the  farm  this 
summer.  More  than  that,  all  the  blackbirds  in  this 
section  will  join  me,  and  each  one  will  carry  a  few 
grubworms  and  cutworms  and  drop  them  on  Shane's 
fields." 

Dobbin  thought  that  carrying  worms  on  the  farm  for 
the  purpose  of  destroying  the  crops  was  contrary  to 
the  arrangement  that  no  violence  should  be  done  to  the 
person  or  property  of  Shane  ;  but  the  birds  all  insisted 
that  it  was  no  more  than  right  that  they  should  have 
this  privilege.  They  thought  that  was  the  best  way  to 
prove  to  Shane  the  great  amount  of  damage  done  by 
these  pests. 

Everything  being  now  arranged,  the  convention 
adjourned  to  meet  again  on  the  following  Sunday  at 
the  same  place,  and  report  what  had  been  done. 

^''Wonder  tchat  all  them  beasts  are  gathered  around- 
that  tree  forV  said  Shane,  as  he  and  Tom  sauntered 
across  the  field,  laying  their  plans  for  the  next  day's 
work.     ''  Must  be  somethin'  wrong." 

*' They're  just  standin'  in  the  shade  of  that  tree,  I 


THE  STUTKE  AT  SHAKE'S.  31 

guess,"  answered  Tom;  "but  it  does  se^m  kind  of 
strange,  for  there's  Towser  among  'em,  an'  he  don't 
often  go  very  far  away  from  the  house." 

"  Yes,  an'  there's  some  other  critter  there,  too,  that 
don't  belong  to  this  farm,"  said  Shane. 

"  It's  a  mule,"  said  Tom.  "  I  wonder  where  in  the 
nation  he  cam^  from  ?  " 

Shane  and  Tom  having  come  close  enough  for  the 
animals  to  see  them,  the  mule  started  across  the  field 
to  the  point  whei-e  he  had  jumped  the  fence.  Towser, 
seeing  the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  started  after  the  mule, 
as  though  chasing  it,  and  made  a  bee-line  for  home  as 
soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight  of  Shane.  The  other 
animals  scattered  in  various  directions,  and  Shane  and 
Tom  proceeded  in  the  direction  the  mule  had  taken  to 
see  where  it  had  gotten  in. 


CHAPTER   V. 


ONDAY  morning  came  bright  and  fair,  and 
Shane  was  up  at  dawn.  He  fed  the  horses, 
and  seeing  the  sorrel  horse  lying  down,  he 
thoiighu  the  horse  was  still  sleeping,  and 
threw  a  corncob  at  him. 

"Come,  wake  up  there,  lazy  bones,"  he  shouted, 
but  the  only  response  was  a  groan. 

"  What  in  the  nation  is  the  matter  now?  "  he  asked 
himself,  as  he  went  around  in  the  stable  and  gave  the 
horse  a  poke  with  the  fork  handle. 

"  Get  up  here,"  he  shouted,  and  gave  the  horse 
another  poke  with  the  fork  handle.  The  sorrel  got  up 
on  his  feet,  but  stood  with  his  head  down. 

"He'd  better  not  try  that  with  me,"  said  Dick,  to 
himself,  in  an  undertone,  as  he  munched  his  corn. 

"Looks  like  a  sick  horse,  sure,"  said  Shane.  "I 
never  knew  that  horse  to  refuse  to  eat  before.  Fire 
and  thunder !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  looked  in  the  gray 
mare's  stall,  and  saw  that  she  had  not  touched  her  corn. 
"  Somebody  must  have  poisoned  these  horses." 

He  led  the  sorrel  horse  and  gray  mare  out  in  the 
l)arn-yard,  where  they  rolled  around  and  made  a  great 
show  of  having  the  colic. 

"Tom,  come  here!"  shouted  Shane,  as  Tom  came 


THE  8TBIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  33 

sauntering  down  the  path  with  his  milk  pail.  "  You 
put  the  saddle  on  Dick,  an'  go  down  an'  get  Hodges 
as  quick  as  you  can."     . 

Tom  did  as  he  was  commanded ;  but  when  he  at- 
tempted to  bring  Dick  out  of  the  stable  he  pretended 
to  be  so  stiff  that  he  could  not  get  out.  Shane  was 
called  up  and  made  acquainted  with  the  state  of  affairs. 

"What  in  the  nation  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter 
with 'em?"  he  asked,  still  more  astounded.  " 'Tain't 
no  founder,  for  they  haven't  been  overfed." 

''I've  an  idea  that  it's  some  of  that  mule's  work," 
said  Tom.     "Like  as  not  he's  been  kicked." 

"  I  reckon  one  mule  wouldn't  kick  all  the  horses  on 
the  place,"  said  Shane,  as  they  examined  him  for  hoof 
marks  and  found  none. 

"Well,  you'll  just  have  to  walk  down  to  town  an'  get 
Hodges,  an'  be  quick  about  it." 

"It  does  beat  all,"  said  Shane,  as  he  returned  to  the 
house.  "  There's  no  misfortune  flyin'  that  don't  'light 
on  this  farm." 

"  What  is  the  matter  now?"  asked  Mrs.  Shane. 

' '  Why,  every  horse  on  the  farm  is  disabled  in  one 
way  or  another,"  said  Shane. 

' '  Well,  I  thought  you  were  working  those  horses  too 
hard,"  said  Mrs.  Shane.  "You  should  remember, 
John,  that  horses  are  not  machines  that  can  go  on  for- 
ever. You  should  judge  their  feelings  something  by 
your  own.  You  raised  Mike's  wages  for  working  over 
time,  hut  tvhat  have  you  given  these  horses  for  their 
overwork'^  Have  you  given  them  any  better  care  or 
better  food?" 


34  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

*'0h,  you  have  foolish  uotious  about  such  things, 
an'  yon  and  me  will  never  agree  on  them  pints,"  said 
Shane. 

"It  is  true,  nevertheless,  that  if  you  would  give 
your  horses  better  care,  and  lighter  work,  you  would 
be  the  gainer  in  the  end,"  said  Mrs.  Shane. 

"How  can  I  help  it,"  said  Shane  ;  "  here's  only  three 
horses  left  on  the  farm,  an'  I've  got  to  get  all  the  work 
I  can  out  of  'em." 

"It  was  overwork  that  put  Dobbin  in  the  shape  he  is 
now  in,"  said  Mrs.  Shane.  "If  he  had  been  properly 
cared  for,  and  not  been  given  work  he  couldn't  do,  he 
would  have  worked  all  summer." 

"Well,  what's  done  can't  be  undone  ;  an'  I've  got  to 
get  them  horses  on  their  feet  again.  Them  foolish 
notions  of  yours  won't  make  any  money  on  the  farm  ; 
so  there's  no  use  discussin'  'em." 

"Time  will  show,"  was  Mi-s.  Shane's  parting  shot. 

Hodges  soon  arrived,  and  worked  on  the  horses  all 
day,  and  at  night  they  did  not  seem  any  better  than 
when  he  began.  He  said  they  were  the  most  peculiar 
and  stubborn  cases  he  had  ever  seen.  Dick  had  sev- 
eral quiet  laughs  at  the  expense  of  the  other  horses 
because  they  had  to  take  nasty  medicine,  while  his 
treatment  was  external.  Hodges  said  he  couldn't  see 
what  was  the  matter  with  the  horses,  unless  their  con- 
stitutions were  entirely  broken  down  by  overwork.  He 
left  in  the  evening  with  instructions  that  if  the  horses 
were  not  better  by  morning  to  let  him  know. 

"Did  you  see  that  big  flock  of  blackbirds  down  in 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHAKE'S.  35 

the  lower  field,"  inquired  Shane  of  Tom  at  the  supper 
table  that  evening. 

"Yes,"  said  Tom  ;  "there  must  have  been  hundreds 
of  'em." 

' '  You  must  get  out  early  with  the  shot-gun  in  the 
mornin,'  or  there  won't  be  a  grain  of  corn  left  in  the 
ground." 

"  Mr.  Tracy  says  that  blackbirds  do  more  good  than 
harm,"  said  Edith.  "He  says  that  all  birds  destroy 
bugs  and  worms." 

' '  Tracy  has  got  lots  of  fool  notions  in  his  head  that 
there  ain't  any  money  in,"  said  Shane. 

"Well,  I  think  it's  cruel  to  shoot  birds  that  don't 
know  they  are  doing  any  harm.  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't 
want  to  be  shot  for  doing  something  that  you  didn't  know 
was  wrong,"  replied  Edith. 

The  further  discussion  of  the  matter  was  postponed 
by  Shane,  who  said  he  had  more  serious  things  to  think 
about. 

"Mornin'  to  ye,  Tom,"  said  Mike,  as  he  met  Tom 
in  the  lane,  gun  in  hand,  bent  on  destroying  blackbirds. 

' '  What  be  ye  goin'  to  shoot  this  mornin'  ?  " 

"Blackbirds,"  replied  Tom. 

"Begorra,  there's  plinty  of  'em,"  said  Mike. 

"  It  looks  like  I  would  get  a  chance  to  use  my  gun," 
said  Tom. 

"  Thim's  quare  birds,  now,  Tom.  I  was  watchin' 
'em  yisterday  an'  begorra,  do  ye  know,  I  think  they're 
plantin'  corn  instid  o'  takin'  it  up ;  for  I  see  'em  a 
droppin'  somethin'  white  all  over  the  field,  and  there  be 


36  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

hundreds  of  'em  at  it.  But  how  is  thim  horses  this 
mornin'?" 

"No  better ;  an'  the  old  man  is  as  mad  as  a  hornet," 
said  Tom,  as  he  passed  on  down  the  lane  in  search  of 
blackbirds.  There  was  abundance  of  them,  and  Tom 
thought  he  would  have  fine  sport  killing  them,  but  they 
were  on  the  alert,  and  not  a  bird  did  he  succeed  in  kill- 
ing, although  he  tramped  around  the  fields  until  he  was 
tired  out. 

"Tom,  you  surely  didn't  milk  that  cow  dry,"  said 
Mrs.  Shane  ;  "you  didn't  get  half  as  much  milk  as  you 
usually  do." 

"She  wouldn't  give  down  her  milk,"  said  Tom. 
"The  old  brute  needed  a  good  beating — and  she  got  it, 
too." 

"You  must  not  ill-treat  that  cow,"  said  Mrs.  Shane. 
*  *  Nothing  will  ruin  a  good  cow  as  soon  as  cruel  treat- 
ment. If  you  won't  treat  the  cow  right  I  will  have  to 
do  the  milking  myself." 

"It  ain't  my  fault  that  she  is  so  mean,"  said  Tom, 
as  he  walked  out  in  the  yard,  and  discovering  a  bird's 
nest  in  the  cedar  tree,  picked  up  a  long  pole  and  began 
to  punch  at  it,  when  Edith  came  out  and  saw  him. 

"Tom  Shane,  what  are  you  doing  ?  "  she  cried  ;  "  you 
leave  that  bird's  nest  alone." 

"I  won't,"  he  said.  "It's  a  nasty  old  robin's  nest, 
and  I  don't  want  'em  here." 

"They  don't  hurt  anything,  and  do  lots  of  good, 
and  sing  so  nice." 

"They  steal  cherries,  and  don't  do  any  good,"  said 
Tom ;  "an'  who  cares  for  their  singin' ? " 


THE  STB  IKE  AT  SHANE'S.  37 

"I  do,  and  Cora  Tracy  does,  and  so  does  mamma. 
Cora  and  I  watched  them  building  that  nest  day  before 
yesterday.  They  didn't  come  back  to-day ;  and  I 
believe  you  have  done  something  to  them.  I'll  tell 
Cora  if  you  tear  it  down,"  she  said,  as  Tom  made 
another  vigorous  punch  at  the  nest. 

"Don't  care  if  you  do,"  said  Tom,  as  he  gave  an- 
other punch  at  the  tree  with  his  pole ;  but- he  was  care- 
ful, however,  not  to  strike  the  nest,  and  laid  down  his 
pole  and  walked  away.  Tom  was  just  at  the  age  when 
the  influence  of  the  gentler  sex  was  most  powerful 
over  him,  and  he  hesitated  to  do  anything  that  might 
bring  him  into  disfavor  with  Cora  Tracy. 

"Oh !  mamma,  do  come  here  and  see,"  cried  Edith, 
the  next  day,  as  she  was  walking  around  in  the  yard. 
"The  moles  have  eaten  up  all  the  tulips." 

Mrs.  Shane  came  out  to  see  the  wreck  of  her  beauti- 
ful tulip  bed. 

"  Here,  Towser  !  come  and  hunt  the  moles,"  called 
Mrs.  Shane  to  Towser,  who  lay  on  the  porch.  He  came 
down  slowly  and  walked  up  to  Mrs.  Shane,  and  licked 
her  hand.  He  then  started  down  the  path,  barking  as 
though  he  saw  some  one,  • 

"Here,  Towser!  come  back  now,  and  hunt  the 
moles."  Towser  came  back,  and  Mrs.  Shane  pointed 
to  the  burrow  and  told  him  to  hunt,  but  he  hung  his 
head  and  walked  away. 

"Why,  what  ails  the  dog?"  said  Mrs.  Shane,  "I 
never  saw  him  act  so." 

"Towser,  you   naughty   dog,"  cried  Edith,    "why 


38  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

don't  you  mind  ?  " — but  Towser  was  gone.  He  remem- 
bered his  promise,  and  kept  it,  but  he  felt  so  mean  that 
he  went  around  in  the  back  yard  and  growled  at  Tom, 
until  he  received  a  kick,  and  then  he  felt  better. 

The  next  day  the  pigs  were  in  the  garden,  and  Edith 
called  Towser  to  run  them  out.  He  lay  still  with  hW\ 
nose  between  his  paws,  and  apparently  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  her. 

"You  naughty,  lazy  dog.  You  shall  not  have  any 
supper  for  that,"  cried  Edith,  as  she  went  after  the 
pigs. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


N  the  following  Sunday  the  beasts  and  birds 
of  the  Shane  farm  met  at  the  appointed 
place  under  the  oak  tree.  Some  of  them 
looked  rather  the  worse  for  the  past  week's 
experience ;  but  all  had  a  determined  air,  and  looked 
willing  to  add  a  little  more  to  the  usual  amount  of  suf- 
fering, if  it  would  assist  them  in  bettering  their  condi- 
tion. 

Dobbin  called  the  meeting  to  order  and  stated  that 
they  would  now  hear  from  each  one  as  to  their  experi- 
ences of  the  past  week.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  Mrs. 
Shane  had  insisted  that  Dobbin  should  not  be  worked 
any  more,  he  was  an  independent  character  on  the 
farm.  He  had  not  been  expected  to  work,  and,  as  a 
consequence,  had  not  been  ill  treated. 

Bay  Dick  pranced  forward,  and  said  he  was  not  so 
lame  as  he  had  been.  "However,  I  am  liable  to  be 
lame  in  good  earnest  if  they  give  me  much  more  of  the 
treatment  that  I  have  received  for  the  past  week.  I 
tell  you  it  is  hard  to  keep  my  heels  down  and  not  kick 
things  to  pieces.  I  haven't  kicked  any  this  week, 
though  I  don't  promise  for  the  future,  for  I  have  put  up 
with  about  all  the  abuse  I  can  stand  without  striking 

D8(C£*  sq 


40  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

''Keep  cool,"  said  Dobbin;  ''let  us  all  work  to- 
gether and  be  patient." 

"Patience  is  a  virtue  I  don't  boast  of,**  said  Dick ; 
*'but  I  will  do  the  best  I  can." 

The  sorrel  said  that  playing  sick  was  about  as  hard 
as  working,  for  he  had  been  going  hungry  all  the  week, 
a  sick  horse,  of  course,  not  being  expected  to  eat. 
He  could  get  along  all  right  as  long  as  they  would  turn 
him  out  in  the  pasture,  where  he  could  crop  the  grass 
without  being  seen  ;  but  when  they  shut  him  up  in  the 
stable  they  could  tell  how  much  he  ate. 

The  gray  mare  had  the  same  experience,  but  they 
both  promised  to  hold  out  to  the  end,  if  it  took  all 
summer,  and  they  got  so  thin  that  they  had  to  stand 
twice  in  the  same  place  to  make  a  shadow. 

"I  have  had  a  pretty  rough  time  of  it,"  said  the 
cow.  "The  only  way  I  could  get  even  was  by  not 
giving  milk,  and  the  only  way  I  could  keep  from  giv- 
ing milk  was  not  to  eat.  I  have  had  to  starve  myself 
for  the  whole  week,  but  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  know- 
ing that  they  have  not  had  enough  milk  in  the  family ; 
and  that  good-for-nothing  Tom  has  not  had  any  milk 
to  drink  for  one  week.  No  doubt  I  am  looking  pretty 
thin,  but  I  am  determined  not  to  give  any  milk  if  I  can 
help  it.  I  have  received  several  beatings  from  Tom, 
because  he  says  I  won't  give  down  my  milk,  and  I 
kicked  him  once." 

"That  is  quite  heroic  on  your  part,"  said  Dobbin. 
"Who  is  the  next?" 

* '  There  never  was  a  dog  hac^  as  hard  a  time  as  I 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  41 

do,"  said  Towser.  "I  have  tried  not  to  do  anything, 
but  I  get  so  many  kicks  and  blows  that  I  have  to  pre- 
tend to  do  something  to  keep  them  from  beating  me  to 
death.  By  'them'  I  mean  Mr.  Shane  and  Tom,  for 
Mrs.  Shane  and  Edith  are  as  kind  as  they  can  be.  I 
haven't  killed  a  mole  this  week,  and  they  ate  up  all  of 
Mrs  Shane's  flowers.  I  was  awfully  sorry  about  that 
for  I  haven't  anything  against  Mrs.  Shane.  And  then 
when  Edith  told  me  to  drive  the  hogs  out  of  the  garden 
I  wouldn't  go,  and  she  had  to  go  and  drive  them  out 
herself.  I  licked  her  hand  afterwards  and  tried  to 
make  up  with  her,  but  she  wouldn't,  and  said  I  was  a 
lazy  dog.  I'll  make  it  all  up  to  her  when  this  strike  is 
over." 

"I  just  had  to  lay  an  egg  every  day,"  said  the  hen, 
"but  I  made  a  nest  away  back  under  the  barn  where 
they  couldn't  find  it,  and  then  went  up  in  the  hay-mow 
and  cackled.  I  know  they  haven't  found  any  eggs  for 
they  are  all  there,  except  what  I  gave  the  crow,  and  I 
think  he  earned  them,  for  I  haven't  seen  a  hawk  for  a 
week." 

"The  rats  and  mice  are  about  to  take  the  place,  for 
I  haven't  bothered  them  this  week,"  said  puss.  ' '  When 
I  get  hungry  for  a  mouse,  I  go  over  to  the  next  farm 
to  get  it.  Shane  said  I  ought  to  be  starved  into  catch- 
ing mice.  Humph !  there  are  mice  to  catch  in  other 
places  than  here.     I  won't  starve." 

"I  have  done  my  part,"  said  the  crow.  "The  hen 
has  been  giving  me  eggs  to  eat,  and  I  have  spent  my 
spare  time  in  carrying  worms  and  dropping  them  on  the 


42  THE  STRIKt:  AT  SHANE'S, 

fields,  and  I  have  had  about  a  hundred  of  my  friends 
at  the  same  work.  No  wonder  the  hen  has  not  seen  a 
hawk  this  week,  for  no  hawk  will  ever  come  around 
where  a  hundred  crows  are." 

"You  have  no  doubt  seen  the   result  of  my  work,", 
said  the  blackbird.      "I  have  had  some  hundreds  of  | 
my  friends  at  work  carrying  worms  and  insects  on  toj 
the  farm  and  dropping  them.     There  will  be  enough 
worms  on  the  farm  within  the  next  week  to  eat  up  all 
the  crops  this  summer." 

"I  don't  think  that  is  right,"  said  Dobbin,  "for; 
Shane  may  change  his  mind  before  the  season  is  over,  \ 
and  then  we  would  be  sorry  for  what  we  have  done." 

"Oh!  don't  worry  about  that,"  said  the  blackbird. 
' '  I  have  explained  the  matter  to  them,  and  they  have  \ 
all  agreed  to  assist  in  carrying  all  the  worms  and  insects  ^ 
off  again,  if  events  should  take  a  favorable  turn  for  us. 
We'll  make  that  all  right." 

"With  that  understanding,  I  consent  that  the  work^ 
go  on,"  said  Dobbin. 

"  Tom  has  been  chasing  us  all  the  week  with  his  gun,  \ 
but  we  keep  out  of  his  way.     It's  open  war  between 
us  from  now  on,  and  we'll  see  which  wins,'*  said  the 
blackbird. 

The  other  birds  said  they  had  been  engaged  in  simi- 
lar work,  and  that  there  was  not  now  a  single  bird  of 
any  kind  on  the  farm. 

While  this  meeting  was  going  on,  Shane  had  gone 
over  to  the  Tracy  farm  to  see  if  he  could  not  get  Mr. 
Tracy  to  help  him  out  with  his  work. 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHAKE'S.  4S 

"it  seems  like  fate  is  agin  me  this  year,"  said 
Shane.  "What  little  crops  I  have  got  in  are  about  to 
be  taken  by  the  birds.  It  keeps  Tom  all  the  time  to 
keep  'em  out  of  the  corn.'* 

"You  and  I  have  different  views  about  such  things," 
said  Mr.  Tracy.  "  /  consider  the  birds  my  best  friends; 
I  wouldn't  part  ivith  them  for  any  money,  and  I  don't 
allow  a  bird  shot  on  my  farm." 

"I  never  could  see  it  in  that  light,"  said  Shane. 
' '  I  know  they  pull  up  the  corn  and  there's  enough 
blackbirds  on  my  farm  to  take  all  the  corn  I  can 
plant." 

"Why,  there's  just  as  many  on  my  farm  and  they 
follow  the  plow  and  pick  up  every  worm  and  bug  they 
can  find.  I'm  satisfied  that  the  work  done  for  me  this 
spring  by  blackbirds  alone  is  worth  fifty  dollars  to  me, 
and  they  are  not  half  done  yet.  I  have  a  great  deal 
more  work  for  them  to  do  for  me  before  the  season  is 
over.  Why,  the  birds  are  one  of  God's  best  gifts  to  us, 
and  we  ought  to  give  Him  thanks  for  sending  them. 
They  are  not  only  a  benefit  to  us  in  money,  but  their 
songs  brighten  our  lives  and  make  our  homes  more 
pleasant." 

"I  never  have  time  to  listen  to  their  singin',"  said 
Shane,  "and  as  for  their  usefulness,  I  think  they 
injure  us  more  than  they  do  us  good." 

"Well,  I  hope  you  will  see  things  in  a  different  light 
some  time,  and  be  able  to  understand  what  a  good  gift 
they  are  to  us." 

"I  never  can  see  things  like  you  do,"  said  Shane  ; 


44  THE  STB  IKE  AT  SHAN^e'S, 

'*an*  it's  no  use  for  us  to  argy  for  we  can't  agree. 
When  luck  begins  to  run  agin  a  man  there's  no  stoppin' 
it.  Now  there's  all  them  horses  of  mine  cKsabled,  an' 
I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"  Now  to  be  candid,  friend  Shane,  don't  you  think  you 
are  in  a  measure  responsible  for  the  condition  of  your 
horses  ?  Now  there's  old  Dobbin  would  have  been  able 
to  do  light  work  all  summer  if  he  had  not  been  over- 
worked, but  he  is  not  fit  for  any  work  now." 

"Yes  ;  an'  I'd  get  rid  of  him  if  it  wasn't  for  Mary. 
I  don't  believe  in  keeping  useless  animals  just  out  of 
sympathy." 

"Oh!  come  now;  you  don't  think  God  gave  man 
dominion  over  the  lower  animals  just  that  we  might 
tyrannize  over  them,  and  abuse  them?  There  is  no 
record  of  any  crime  they  ever  committed  against  the 
laws  of  God,  or  any  disobedience  to  His  will  that 
should  lead  Him  to  give  man  dominion  over  them  as  a 
means  of  punishment ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  seems  as 
though  He  has  given  them  to  us  to  be  useful  to  us, 
and  make  our  lives  happier.  There  is  a  limit  to  our 
dominion,  and  that  limit  has  been  exceeded  by  you,  in 
the  case  of  old  Dobbin,  at  least.  You  had  long  years 
of  service  from  him,  and  he  had  grown  too  old  for  the 
work  you  put  on  him.  The  same  reason  would  proba- 
bly hold  good  with  the  other  horses,  for  I  think  you 
have  overworked  them  this  spring.  I  say  it  in  all 
kindness  to  you  ;  but  I  think  you  have  got  into  the 
habit  of  looking  at  things  in  the  wrong  light,  and 
are  measuring  things  by  a  fslse  standard." 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  45 

*' You  may  be  right  about  the  matter,"  said  Shane  ; 
' '  but  I  don't  see  how  a  man  is  to  get  along  in  the 
world  if  he  don't  push  things." 

"That  depends  on  what  you  mean  by  pushing  things, 
and  getting  along  in  the  world.  If  the  getting  of 
money  is  the  aim  of  life  it  might  be  to  our  interest  to 
^^-ring  the  last  pound  of  strength  from  our  beasts  that 
could  be  got  out  of  them,  but  I  believe  it  is  a  good 
policy  Dot  only  to  get  happiness  for  ourselves,  hut  to 
make  them  happy  too ;  and  I  don't  think  I  ever  lost 
anything  by  that  policy." 

"Well,  we  can't  agree  on  these  questions,"  said 
Shane,  "and  what  I  want  to  know  is  if  you  will  help 
me  out  a  little  with  my  work,  when  you  get  your  crop 
in." 

"Why,  certainly,  I  am  always  willing  to  help  a 
neighbor  when  he  is  in  trouble.  Let  me  see  :  the  boys 
will  have  that  lower  field  broke  up  by  the  middle  of  the 
week,  and  then  I  will  send  you  one  team  on  one  con- 
dition, neighbor  Shane." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Shane. 

' '  That  you  will  apply  my  principles  in  regard  to  the 
lower  animals  to  my  horses.  That  you  will  treat  them 
as  kindly  as  I  would  treat  them,  and  be  as  merciful  to 
them  as  you  would  to  me,  if  I  went  over  to  help  you." 

"I  agree  to  that,"  said  Shane,  "an'  appreciate 
your  kindness,  I  am  sure." 

Shane  took  his  departure  and  went  on  to  Abner 
Smith's,  who  lived  on  the  next  farm.  Abner  Smith 
was  a  bluff  old  fellow  who  always  spoke  hi§  mind,  and 


46  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

was  always  free  to  criticise  anything  that  did  not  suit 
him,  but  his  criticisms  always  had  a  ring  of  sincerity, 
as  being  the  result  of  honest  conviction.  Justice  to 
all  things,  both  man  and  beast,  was  the  ruling  princi- 
ple of  his  life.  Shane's  errand  here  was  the  same  as 
at  Tracy's,  and  he  related  his  troubles  and  asked  for  the 
use  of  a  team  in  getting  his  corn  planted. 

"Well,  I'm  always  neighborly,"  said  Smith,  "an'  I 
think  I  can  spare  you  a  team  by  the  middle  of  the  week, 
an'  I'll  send  my  boy  John  along  to  drive  it  for  you." 

"That  is  not  necessary,"  said  Shane;  "I  have 
plenty  of  hands.  What  I  want  is  horses ;  Tom  can 
drive  the  team,  if  you  will  let  me  have  it." 

"I'd  rather  my  boy  John  would  go  along  with  the 
team,"  said  Smith.  "  It  shan't  cost  you  nothin'.  You 
see  the  team  is  used  to  John,  an'  then  they  do  say  that 
you  are  a  ha^'d  man  on  bosses,  neighbor  Shane,  an' 
mine  ain't  used  to  bein'  ill  treated." 

"Well,  suit  yourself  about  that.  By  the  w^ay,  I'll 
send  Tom  over  to  work  in  John's  place,  if  you  insist 
on  sending  John  with  the  team." 

"That's  fair,"  said  Smith.  "If  you  don't  need  the 
boy,  just  send  him  over  an'  I'll  find  work  for  him." 

Farmer  Shane  returned  home  feeling  more  cheerful 
than  he  had  for  some  days ;  but  he  didn't  feel  right 
about  the  way  Tracy  and  Smith  had  talked  about  his 
treatment  of  his  horses  and  other  animals. 

"The  idea,"  he  soliloquized,  "that  I  don't  know  as 
much  about  how  to  use  a  horse  as  Abner  Smith.  Why. 
I*ve  owned  two  horses  to  his  one,  an'  have  wore  out 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  47 

more  fiorses  than  he  ever  owned.  I'd  get  more  work 
out  of  the  horses  if  he'd  let  Tom  drive  'em,  but  then 
I'll  have  to  do  the  best  I  can.  An'  then  there's  Tracy's 
horses  ;  I'll  use  them  m^^self ,  an'  may  be  John  will  get 
ashamed  of  himself  if  he  don't  do  as  much.asldo 
with  Tracy's  team ;  but  then  I  promised  Tracy  that  I 
wouldn't  use  his  team  hard,  an'  if  I  did  he  would  nevei; 
forgive  me.  John  would  just  be  mean  enough  to  go 
right  away  an'  tell  Tracy  if  I  did  get  a  full  day's  work 
out  of  'em.  Well,  I'll  just  have  to  do  the  best  I  can, 
but  I  do  hate  to  have  to  work  with  people  who  have 
such  cranky  notions.  It's  strange  they  can't  see  that 
it  pays  better  to  work  a  horse  for  all  there  is  in  him, 
an'  when  he's  wore  out  shoot  him  or  give  him  away. 
I  tell  you  time  is  worth  more  than  horse  flesh." 

Such  were  the  thoughts  of  a  man  who  was  intent  on 
money  getting.  He  forgot  that  the  same  God  who 
created  him  created  the  lower  animals,  and  that  the 
dominion  God  gave  him  over  them  was  a  trust  to  be 
executed  mercifully. 


CHAFPER   VII. 


HE  days  went  by,  and  Tracy  and  Smith  sent 
their  teams,  and  the  work  went  merrily  on 
at  the  Shane  farm,  and  it  looked  like  the 
corn  would  be  planted  in  pretty  good  time 
yet.  Shane's  horses  were  not  improving  in  appearance 
any,  and  he  had  spent  the  price  of  a  horse  in  fees  to 
Hodges  to  treat  them.  He  hoped  to  get  them  cured 
by  the  time  the  corn  was  ready  for  the  cultivator,  but 
the  first  thing  was  to  get  the  corn  planted. 

The  work  went  steadily  on,  and  by  the  middle  of  the 
next  week  the  last  hill  was  in  the  ground,  and  Shane 
was  astonished  at  the  amount  of  work  that  could  be 
done  by  two  teams,  when  they  were  worked  according 
to  Tracy's  and  Smith's  plans;  for  he  had  kept  his 
promise  to  Tracy  to  treat  the  team  well.  He  had  given 
them  proi)er  rest  during  the  day,  proper  care  at  night, 
and  had  worked  them  a  reasonable  number  of  hours. 
He  remarked  that  "  Smith  an'  Tracy  had  two  might} 
good  teams.  They  just  go  right  along  an'  do  what 
they  are  told  to  do  without  any  fuss  or  trouble.'*  Yet 
he  could  not  understand  that  it  was  the  kind  treatment 
that  these  horses  received  that  made  them  work  so 
cheerfully. 

"There's  an  awful  sight  o'  grubworms  in  this  soil," 


4-^ 


TRE  8TBIKE  AT  SHANS'S.  49 

said  John  Smith,  as  he  and  Shane  were  breaking  up 
the  ground  for  corn.  "If  them  blackbirds  that's,  a 
hangin*  around  in  the  woods  would  come  down  an'  pick 
'em  up  it  would  be  many  a  dollar  in  your  pocket." 

"I  ain't  got  any  use  for  blackbirds,"  said  Shane. 
"The  pesky  things  will  be  around  when  the  corn's 
planted  to  pull  it  up.  I'd  rather  take  my  chances  agin 
the  worms  than  the  birds.  If  I  bad  a  gun,  I'd  start 
them  black  rascals  out  of  there." 

"They'll  pick  up  a  sight  of  worms  if  you'll  let  'em," 
said  John.  "  Father  don't  allow  us  to  kill  birds.  He 
says  they  more  than  pay  their  way." 

"Maybe  they  do  for  some  people,  but  they  don't 
for  me,"  said  Shane. 

The  birds  were  confining  their  work  to  the  fields,  and 
were  not  seen  about  the  house.  This  was  observed 
soonest  by  Edith,  who  was  very  fond  of  birds. 

"How  strange  it  is,  mamma,  that  there  are  no  birds 
this  summer,"  said  Edith. 

"  I  have  noticed  it,"  said  Mrs.  Shane.  "Perhaps 
they  have  not  come  yet." 

"  Oh  !  3^es  they  have,"  said  Edith,  "there's  just  lots 
of  them  over  at  Tracy's,  and  lots  of  nests.  I  don't 
see  why  they  don't  build  any  nests  here.  It  seems  so 
lonesome  here  without  them.  I  think  papa  and  Tom 
are  cruel  to  shoot  them  and  drive  them  away,  and  I 
told  papa  so." 

"Don't  worry  your  papa  anymore  than  you  can 
help,  Edie,"  said  Mrs.  Shane.  "He  has  had  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  this  spring." 


50  THE  8TBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

*'Well,  mamma,  don't  you  thiDk  he  has  brought  a 
great  deal  of  this  trouble  on  himself  ?  " 

"Perhaps  so,  Edie  ;  but  your  papa  has  ideas  about 
things  that  are  different  from  ours.  He  looks  at  ever}^- 
thing  from  a  money  point  of  view." 

' '  I  don't  think  that  people  who  look  at  things  only 
from  a  money  point  of  view,"  said  Edith,  "get  much 
happiness." 

"Your  papa  is  doing  what  he  thinks  is  for  the  best, 
and  is  looking  ahead  to  save  up  something  for  you  and 
Tom." 

"Well,  I  don't  want  him  to  make  himself  miserable 
all  his  life  to  save  up  money  for  me.  I  would  rather 
he  poor  and  he  hapx^y^  and  have  people  and  animals 
and  hirds  to  love  me.  If  papa  would  read  the  books  I 
borrowed  from  Cora  Tracy  he  would  find  out  that  birds 
are  useful,  and  instead  of  trying  to  kill  them  and  drive 
them  away,  he  would  be  glad  to  have  them  come." 

' '  Your  papa  has  so  many  cares  that  he  don't  have 
time  to  read,"  said  Mrs.  Shane. 

Edith  sat  for  some  time  in  silence,  gazing  out  over 
the  fields,  and  up  in  the  blue  sky. 

' '  It  seems  to  me  like  something  dreadful  is  going  to 
happen,"  she  said.  "Everything  seems  so  gloomy 
around  here  ;  it  doesn't  seem  like  the  same  place." 

"The  bad  luck  your  papa  has  had  this  spring  makes 
us  all  feel  down-hearted.  Perhaps  it  is  all  for  the  best, 
and  we  can  only  hope  that  it  will  come  out  all  right." 

"I  don't  think  it  will  come  out  all  right,"  said  Edith. 
"I  don't  think  papa  is  doing  right  to  drive  away  the 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  51 

birds,  and  work  the  horses  to  death  ;  and  Mr.  Tracy 
thinks  the  same  thing,  for  Cora  told  me  so,  and  I'm 
going  to  have  a  talk  with  papa  about  it." 

"It  is  quite  useless  to  annoy  him  about  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Shane.  "His  mind  is  made  up,  and  he  will  not 
change  it." 

This  reply  did  not  settle  the  matter  with  Edith,  for 
she  was  determined  to  talk  with  her  father  about  the 
matter,  but  she  did  not  expect  the  opportunity  to  come 
in  the  manner  it  did. 

The  days  slipped  by  and  the  corn  was  coming  up, 
but  the  difficulties  on  the  Shane  farm  had  not  improved 
any.  The  horses  were  still  not  fit  for  use,  and  Hodges* 
could  not  tell  when  they  would  be. 

"I  don't  believe  there's  anything  the  matter  with 
that  bay  Dick,"  said  Shane,  "and  I'm  not  going  to 
fool  with  him  any  longer.  He  eats  as  hearty  as  ever, 
and  I  saw  him  down  in  the  pasture  trotting  around  as 
limber  as  any  horse.  I'm  goin'  to  hitch  him  up  an' 
make  him  work  or  break  his  neck.  Here's  the  corn 
comin'  up  an'  some  of  the  horses  have  got  to  go  in  the 
field  pretty  soon." 

Having  come  to  this  conclusion,  he  said  he  would 
hitch  Dick  up  to  the  cart  and  drive  him  to  town,  and 
see  if  he  couldn't  limber  him  up  under  the  whip. 

"Do  be  careful,"  said  Mrs.  Shane,  "you  know  that 
horse  has  a  bad  temper." 

"  Oh  !  I  guess  Dick  knows  me  by  this  time,  and  he 
knows  I  won't  stand  au}^  nonsense.  If  he's  as  lame  as 
he  pretends  to  be,  it  won't  be  much  trouble  to  handle 
him." 


52  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

Accordingly  the  harness  was  put  on  Dick,  and  he 
was  hitched  to  the  cart.  He  stumbled  around  like  a 
very  lame  horse,  and  made  a  very  bad  show  of  getting 
along.  No  one  but  Shane  would  have  undertaken  to 
drive  him  in  the  condition  he  appeared  to  be  in. 

"Poor  Dick,"  said  Edith,  as  Shane  stopped  at  the 
house;  "I  don't  think  papa  ought  to  drive  him  when 
he  is  so  lame,"  and  she  i)atted  his  neck  and  smoothed 
out  his  long  mane.  "Don't  drive  him  hard,  papa," 
she  continued,  "and  I'm  sure  he'll  do  the  best  he 
can." 

Shane  made  no  reply,  but  drove  away  toward  town. 
The  drive  to  town  and  return  was  a  slow  one,  for  even 
Shane's  hard  heart  would  not  permit  him  to  drive  a 
lame  horse  out  of  a  walk.  Shane  was  rather  proud 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  succeeded  in  driving  Dick,  and 
said  that  all  the  horse  needed  was  exercise,  and  he 
would  be  at  work  in  a  few  d?.ys.  He  thought,  per- 
haps, a  little  exercise  would  do  the  rest  of  the  horses 
good. 

The  next  day  Shane  proceeded  to  hitch  Dick  up 
again  for  the  purpose  of  driving  him. 

"  There's  no  use  talkin',"  he  said  to  Mike,  "  1  have 
got  to  put  these  horses  to  work." 

"  Bether  go  slow,"  said  Mike,  "for  if  ye  put  thim 
sick  horses  to  work  too  soon  ye  may  have  dead  ones." 

"It  is  better  to  have  dead  horses  than  useless  ones, 
just  standin'  round  eatin'.  A  /lead  horse  don't  eat 
anything.  It  would  be  money  in  my  pocket  if  they 
were  all  dead,"  and  he  gave  Dick  a  sharp  cut  with  the 


TH:^  8TBIKE  AT  SHAKE'S.  53 

whip  to  start  him.  Dick  laid  back  his  ears  and  hob- 
bled away ;  hut  his  looks  appeared  to  indicate  that  a 
very  little  of  the  ichip  ivoidd  limber  him  up  too  much 
for  the  good  of  Shane's  hecdth.  Edith  being  away 
there  was  no  one  to  give  the  horse  a  kind  word  to  put 
him  in  a  better  humor.  Shane  mounted  the  cart  and 
clacked  to  the  horse  to  start,  but  Dick  stood  still. 
He  had,  evidently,  made  up  his' mind  that  he  did  not 
want  to  work  that  day.  Shane  gave  him  a  cut  with 
the  whip,  but  Dick  laid  back  his  ears  and  shook  his 
head,  as  much  as  to  say,  "there  is  trouble  coming 
for  somebody." 

"You  won't  go,  eh?"  said  Shane,  and  he  gave  the 
horse  blow  after  blow  with  the  whip,  almost  cutting  the 
hide  open.  Dick  made  a  lunge  forward,  but  Shane 
pulled  with  all  his  strength  on  the  reins,  and  the  hard 
bit  cut  the  horse's  mouth  until  it  bled,  and  threw  Dick 
back  on  his  haunches.  The  sudden  halt  threw  Shane 
forward,  and  the  reins  were  slackened.  This  was 
Dick's  opportunity,  and  he  seized  the  bit  in  his  teeth, 
a  trick  horses  learn  when  they  are  abused,  and  which 
they  practise  to  save  themselves  from  punishment  by 
the  bit.  Before  Shane  could  recover  himself,  Dick 
bad  started  down  the  road,  forgetting  all  about  his  stiff 
legs.  Shane  pulled  on  the  reins  until  his  arms  ached, 
but  it  was  the  strength  of  a  man  against  the  strength 
of  a  horse.  It  was  the  steel  bit  against  the  teeth  of 
the  horse,  now,  and  the  teeth  won.  Down  the  road 
they  flew  with  the  speed  of  the  wind.  They  neared 
the  bend  in  the  road,  and  Shane  knew  that  the  end  would 


54  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

come  there,  for  he  never  could  make  the  turn  without 
upsetting  the  cart,  but  he  was  helpless.  Straight  at 
the  fence  went  Dick,  paying  no  attention  to  the  turn 
of  the  road,  and  with  a  bound  he  went  over,  and  the 
cart  was  smashed  to  splinters.  Shane  lay  beside  the 
road  unconscious,  and  to  all  appearance  dead. 

Dick  kicked  himself  free  from  the  harness  and  sped 
across  the  field,  thankful  that  he  had  the  privilege  to 
use  his  legs  once  more.  Shane  had  spent  his  life 
among  horses,  but  had  never  learned  until  now  that  he 
could  not  subdue  a  high-spirited  horse  by  force. 

Mrs.  Shane  had  seen  the  horse  start  and  feared  the 
result.  An  elevation  in  the  road  had  cut  off  her  view, 
after  the  horse  had  passed  down  the  road  a  few  rods, 
and  she  knew  nothing  of  the  result.  She  called  Mike 
and  Tom  from  the  barn  and  told  them  what  had 
occurred. 

"Oh!  that's  all  right,  mother;  I  guess  father  can 
manage  him,  as  lame  as  he  is,"  said  Tom.  "He  won't 
run  very  far  before  he  will  get  tired." 

"Begorra,  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Mike  ;  "it's 
a  fiery  temper  the  horse  has,  an'  whin  his  blood's  up 
he's  hard  to  manage." 

"I  would  rather  you  would  go  after  him  and  see  if 
anything  has  happened,"  said  Mrs.  Shane. 

"Why,  how  useless  that  would  be,  mother;  there 
ain't  a  horse  on  the  farm  we  could  drive,  an'  we 
couldn't  catch  him  on  foot." 

"  I  shall  not  rest  until  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Shane. 

"Don't  worry  about  that.     Father  knows  too  much 


THE  STUIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  55 

about  horses  to  let  Dick  get  away  from  him  that  way," 
said  Tom.     "Come,  Mike,  let's  go  back  to  work." 

Shane  still  lay  beside  the  road  unconscious.  He  had 
ti-ied  to  manage  the  horse  by  brute  force,  and  here  was 
the  result — the  horse  prancing  over  the  field,  exulting 
in  his  freedom,  and  the  man  lying  unconscious  beside 
the  road.  The  horse  had  not  expended  a  tithe  of  his 
strength,  and  the  man  was  as  helpless  as  the  dead. 

At  the  time  of  the  accident  Edith  was  visiting  Cora 
Tracy,  and  in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Tracy  had  occasion 
to  hitch  up  his  wagon  and  drive  down  the  road  on  an 
errand  to  another  farm,  and  as  he  was  going  by  the 
Shane  farm  he  told  Edith  she  could  ride  with  him.  '  She 
gladly  accepted  his  in\itation,  for  it  would  save  her  a 
long  walk. 

"I  always  like  to  ride  behind  your  horses,"  said 
Edith,  as  they  drove  along  ;  "they  look  so  happy  and 
contented." 

"That's  the  way  I  want  them  to  be,"  said  Mr. 
Tracy.  "They  deserve  to  be  happy  just  as  much  as 
I  do,  or  any  of  my  family." 

* '  Do  you  think  animals  know  anything  about  happi- 
ness or  unhappiuess  ?  "  said  Edith  ;  "that  is,  I  mean  do 
they  know  when  we  love  them,  and  can  they  love  us 
in  return  ?  " 

"That  is  a  hard  question  to  answer,"  said  Tracy; 
"but  I  think  their  actions  indicate  that  they  appre- 
ciate love  and  kindness  as  much  as  a  human  being 
does  ;  but  whether  they  understand  such  things  as  we 
do  or  not,  I  cannot  tell.     I  have  always  made  it  a  rule 


56  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

to  treat  them  as  though  they  did.  This  is  especially 
the  case  with  horses  and  dogs.  I  find  that  I  can  get 
much  better  service  out  of  them  by  treating  them 
kindly ;  and  then  I  feel  better  myself  when  I  have 
treated  all  the  brute  creation  fairly,  and  have  dealt 
justly  by  them." 

"I  wish  papa  would  look  at  things  as  you  do,  and 
would  take  more  interest  in  the  welfare  of  his  dumb 
animals,"  said  Edith. 

' '  I  should  think  a  good  little  teacher  like  you  could 
teach  him  something  about  such  things,"  said  Tracy. 

"He  won't  listen  to  me,"  said  Edith.  "He  says  I 
am  too  young  to  know  much  about  such  things." 

"Why,  how  is  this?"  exclaimed  Tracy,  as  they 
passed  along  the  road  in  the  vicinity  of  the  wreck,  and 
saw  Dick  over  in  the  field.  "Here  is  a  horse  running 
loose  with  a  bridle  on  and  part  of  the  harness.  Why, 
it  looks  like" — he  paused  in  his  remark,  for  he  recog- 
nized the  horse  as  Mr.  Shane's. 

"It  looks  like  Dick,"  said  Edith,  taking  up  the  sen- 
tence and  finishing  it  for  him  ;  "but  it  can't  be,  for 
Dick  is  lame  and  this  horse  is  not." 

"  It  looks  like  some  one  has  been  in  trouble,  but  I 
don't  see  any  indications  of  it  on  the  road.  That  is 
one  way  that  high-spirited  horses  have  of  retaliating 
for  ill-usage  on  the  part  of  their  masters,"  he  con- 
tinued, as  they  drove  along  the  road.  On  nearing  the 
turn  of  the  road  he  saw  evidences  of  the  wreck  made 
by  Dick  ;  but  Edith's  bright  eyes  had  seen  it  before  he 
did. 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHAXE'S.  57 

.**0h!  Mr.  Tracy,  there  has  been  a  runaway,  and 
there  is  a  man  lying  beside  the  road.  Oh  !  I  know  it 
must  be  papa.     Do  please  drive  faster  and  let  us  see." 

Mr.  Tracy  needed  no  urging  on  this  point,  for  he  had 
already  started  his  horses  into  a  trot.  As  they  neared 
the  place  the  cause  of  the  trouble  was  apparent. 
Edith  leaped  from  the  wagon  and  was  at  her  father's 
side  in  a  moment. 

"  Oh  !  dear,  dear  papa,  speak  to  me,"  she  sobbed,  as 
she  lifted  his  head  in  her  arms.  "  Oh  !  Mr.  Tracy,  is 
he  dead?"  she  asked,  between  her  sobs. 

"He  is  not  dead,  my  dear  girl,  but  very  badly 
injured,  I  am  afraid,"  he  answered.  "  Can  you  stay 
here  with  him  until  I  go  for  assistance  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  don't  go  away ;  I  can  help  you  lift  him  in 
the  wagon  and  we  will  take  him  home." 

"Why,  my  dear  girl,  you  have  not  strength  to  help 
me  lift  him." 

"  Oh  !  yes  I  have,  Mr.  Tracy  ;  I  am  strong.  Come, 
let  me  help." 

"Well,  if  you  insist,  we  will  try  it,"  he  said;  and 
they  lifted  him  up  and  succeeded  in  getting  him  into 
the  wagon,  and  drove  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  the 
Shane  farm.  When  they  arrived  Edith  hastened  to  the 
house  and  met  her  mother  on  the  porch.  Edith's 
swollen  eyes  told  the  whole  story  to  Mrs.  Shane,  and 
she  clasped  her  daughter  in  her  arms  and  sobbed  :  "  Is 
he  dead,  Edie?  is  he  dead?" 

"No,  mamma;  only  hurt,"  she  replied,  trying  to 
keep  up  a  stout  heart. 


B8  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

Mrs.  Shane  hastened  out  to  the  wagon,  and  Edith 
hurried  away  in  search  of  Tom  and  Mike,  who  came 
and  carried  Mr.  Shane  into  the  house.  Mr.  Tracy 
immediately  went  for  the  doctor. 

"  Now,  Jerry  and  Tom,  you'll  have  to  trot,"  he  said 
to  his  horses,  as  he  touched  them  lightly  with  the  whip. 
"It's  a  case  of  life  and  death,  old  boys,  so  skip  along." 
And  the  good  horses  skimmed  over  the  ground  in  the 
best  of  humor,  and  soon  returned  with  the  doctor. 

On  examination  Shane  was  found  to  have  a  broken 
leg,  and  a  contusion  on  the  head.  He  remained  in  a 
semi-unconscious  condition  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 
On  the  following  morning  he  rallied,  but  had  no  recol- 
lection of  the  accident  until  Mrs.  Shane  explained  the 
matter  to  him.  The  bitterest  pang  to  him  now  was  the 
thought  of  the  two  long  months  of  enforced  idleness 
and  suffering  that  were  before  him. 


CHAFrER  VII  r. 


HE  story  of  the  accident  was   soon  spread 

abroad  over  the  farm,  and  was  commented 

on  by   all  the  animals ;  but   the   general 

opinion  seemed  to  be  that  there  would  be 

one  person  less  to  abuse  them — for  a  w^hile  anyhow. 

"  I'm  sorry  Tom  wasn't  fixed  somehow  so  that  he 
couldn't  get  out  here  to  beat  us,"  said  the  cow. 

"I  don't  like  that  w^ay  of  doing,"  said  Dobbin  to 
Dick.  "You  went  too  far  in  that  matter.  Of  course 
everybody  will  know  now  that  you  were  playing  off, 
and  they  may  see  through  the  whole  thing,  and  that 
will  result  in  more  violence." 

"Well,  what  is  done  can't  be  undone,"  said  Dick, 
my  temper  got  away  with  me,  and  I  was  tired  of  sham- 
ming. If  I  had  been  really  lame  Shane  would  have 
driven  me  just  the  same.  I  was  lame  for  all  he  knew 
to  the  contrary,  and  when  he  whipped  me  I  started  to 
run  before  I  had  time  to  think.  I  knew  I  might  as 
well  make  a  complete  job  of  it  while  I  was  at  it ;  for 
Shane  would  know  I  was  shamming  anyhow,  and  I 
would  have  to  fight  it  out  with  him  sometime.  You 
see,  I  had  put  myself  in  a  position  where  I  had  to  fight 
or  surrender,  and  I  preferred  to  fight,"  '^ 


60  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

"It's  a  very  bad  piece  of  business,"  said  Dobbin, 
"and  may  make  trouble  for  all  of  us.  You  should 
have  kept  your  temper." 

"I  tried  to  and  failed,  as  you  see,"  said  Dick.  "  I 
have  neither  your  age  nor  experience  in  such  matters, 
and  make  bad  breaks  sometimes." 

"We  will  have  to  take  some  other  means  of  protect- 
ing ourselves  when  Shane  gets  about  again,"  said  Dob- 
bin ;  "but  that  won't  be  for  a  good  many  days,  so 
Towser  says." 

"It's  open  war  with  me  now,"  said  Dick.  "  I  don't 
intend  that  the  harness  shall  go  on  my  back  again  until 
this  matter  is  settled.  Towser  was  saying  the  other 
day  that  Shane  said  if  ever  we  did  get  able  to  work 
he  would  make  us  pay  dear  for  our  vacation." 

The  days  were  long  and  tedious  for  Shane  as  he  lay 
on  his  bed  and  brooded  over  his  troubles.  To  his 
physical  suffering  was  added  the  worry  about  the  con- 
dition of  things  on  the  farm.  Mrs.  Shane  and  the 
children  tried  to  keep  all  further  trouble  from  him  by 
putting  the  condition  of  things  in  their  most  favorable 
light,  but  he  understood  his  business  too  thoroughly 
to  be  deceived. 

"Tom,  how  long  before  that  corn  will  be  ready  for 
the  cultivator?"  asked  Shane,  as  Tom  was  passing 
through  the  room. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Tom,  "but  when  it  is  the 
neighbors  will  all  come  in  and  plow  it  over  for  you." 

"Did  the  blackbirds  take  much  of  it?" 

"I  don't  think  they  took  any  of  it,"  said  Tom. 

"  Is  it  a  good  stand  ? " 


TBE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  61 

*'It  is  good  enough,"  replied  Tom  ;  "don't  worry 
about  that ;  it  will  come  out  all  right." 

"But  I  do  worry  about  it.  There  is  something 
wrong  about  it;  I  can  tell  it  by  your  actions.  Come, 
out  with  it.  One  more  misfortune  won't  kill  me  after 
I've  gone  through  what  I  have." 

"Well,  if  you  must  know,"  s?id  Tom,  "the  corn 
is  not  a  good  stand." 

"  Not  a  good  stand?     What  is  the  reason?" 

"If  you  must  know  about  it  I  might  as  well  tell  you 
all  about  it.  The  corn  crop  is  a  failure.  The  worms 
have  taken  every  stock  of  it,  and  it  will  have  to  be 
planted  over.  Now  there  ain't  any  use  to  worry  over 
it,  for  Mr.  Tracy  said  that  the  neighbors  would  come 
in  and  plow  up  the  ground  and  replant  it ;  but  he  was 
afraid  you  would  not  raise  much  corn  there  on  account 
.of  the  worms." 

"Was  Tracy's  corn  destroyed  by  the  worms?" 

'  No. " 

"Nor  Smith's?" 

"No." 

"Nor  anybody's  else ? " 

"Nobody's  around  here." 

"Then  fate  is  agin  me,  an'  I  give  up  the  fight," 
said  Shane. 

"Mr.  Tracy  says  there  is  something  peculiar  about 
your  corn,  an'  he  says  he  can't  account  for  it  unless  it 
is  because  there  ain't  no  birds  here  to  take  the  worms. 
Mother  an'  Edie  have  been  talkin'  about  there  bein'  no 
birds  here ;  but  I  never  noticed  it  particular  till  Tracy 


62  THE   STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

spoke  about  it.     But  I  don't  believe  that  had  anything 
to  do  with  it." 

"I  don't  go  nothin'  on  them  foolish  notions  of  his," 
said  Shane;  "but  it  does  look  like  there's  a  kind  of 
a  fate  follerin'  me  this  spring." 

"  Well,  don't  worry  over  it,  an'  we'll  plant  it  over 
again,  an'  may  be  it  will  come  out  all  right  in  the 
end." 

"There'll  be  nothin'  in  it  this  year.  If  the  worms 
took  it  once  they'll  take  it  again,  an'  we'll  get  nothin' 
out  of  the  corn  crop  this  year." 

Tom  left  Shane  more  despondent  than  ever,  and  he 
spent  the  remainder  of-  the  day  in  a  very  bad  mood. 
As  the  shades  of  evening  crept  around  him  he  felt  the 
burden  of  his  misfortunes  more  severely  than  ever. 
This,  in  connection  with  his  broken  limb,  was  more  than 
he  could  bear,  and  caused  him  to  groan  aloud.  The 
sound  reached  Edith,  who  sat  in  the  adjoining  room. 
She  crept  silently  into  his  room  and  approached  his 
bed. 

"Poor  papa,  are  you  suffering  miUch?"  she  asked. 

"Oh!  3^es,  my  girl;  it  seems  like  everything  is 
goin'  to  ruin." 

"Why,  papa,  how  you  talk,"  and  she  knelt  down 
by  his  bedside.  "Haven't  you  a  good  home,  and  a 
loving  family,  and  kind  neighbors?" 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know;  but  then  there'll  be  nothin' 
made  on  the. farm  this  year." 

"What  if  there  isn't ;  we  will  be  just  as  happy." 

"  You  don't  understand,  girl ;  you  are  not  old  enougli 
to  understand  these  things." 


THE  STItIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  6^ 

"Yes  ;  but  I  do  understand  them,  papa.  I'm  seven-  • 
teen,  and  I  know  that  you  have  been  wearing  out  your 
life  trying  to  lay  by  money  and  buy  more  land.  It 
isn't  making  us  any  happier,  but  instead  it  is  making 
you  and  all  of  us  unhappy ;  and  papa  you  are  not  so 
kind  as  you  used  to  be.  You  don't  love  us  like  you 
did  when  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"Not  love  you,  Edie?  why,  of  course  I  do.  It  is 
for  you  I  am  trying  to  save  up  money.  What  better 
proof  do  you  want  of  my  love  ?  " 

"Why,  I  want  a  little  of  this  kind  of  love,"  and  she 
drew  his  arm  around  her  neck  and  kissed  him  for  the 
first  time  in  years. 

This  was  a  new  experience  for  John  Shane.  The 
sunlight  of  such  love  had  not  penetrated  the  dusty 
recesses  of  his  heart  for  years,  and  the  dust  would 
have  to  be  cleared  away  before  its  genial  warmth  could 
reach  his  soul. 

"You  are  a  good  daughter,  Edie;  but  you  do  not 
understand  how  necessary  it  is  to  have  money  to  get 
along  in  the  world." 

"Oh!  yes  I  do,  i^apa ;  but  I  know  that  money 
alone  will  not  bring  happiness.  Let  us  be  happy  and 
not  worry  about  money." 

"But  how  can  we  live  without  money,  child?'* 

"Why,  you  dear  old  papa,  I  know  you  have  money 
enough  in  the  bank  to  live  on  for  a  year  if  we  didn't 
raise  any  crops  at  all." 

"  And  what  would  you  do  when  that  was  gone?" 

"Why,  then  you  \^ill  be  well,  and  the  horses  will  be 


64  THE  8 f BIKE  AT  SHAKE'S, 

well,  and  we  will  all  go  to  work  with  willing  hands  and 
happy  hearts.  We  will  be  kind  and  loving  to  every- 
body and  everything,  and  we  won't  think  so  much 
about  making  money." 

"It  sounds  good  to  hear  you  talk  that  way,  Edie, 
but  I'm  afraid  it  won't  work.  A  man  must  look  out 
an'  provide  for  his  own  family,  for  if  he  don't  nobody 
will." 

"Yes,  but  if  he  allows  his  love  for  his  family  to  be 
driven  out  by  the  love  of  money  it  seems  to  me  he  has 
made  a  bad  bargain." 

"Well,  good  night,  daughter;  you've  cheered  me 
up  for  a  while,  anyhow.  My  misfortunes  worry  me 
most  on  account  of  those  who  are  dependent  on  me.  I 
want  to  put  them  above  want." 

"There  now,  papa ;  no  more  about  that.  Let  us 
encourage  love  and  kindness  toward  one  another  and 
trust  in  God.  Good  night,  papa,"  and  she  gave  him 
another  kiss  and  left  him. 

John  Shane  was  restless  ;  as  the  hours  dragged  their 
weary  length  along  the  loneliness  of  his  situation 
pressed  itself  c  n  him .  The  conversation  with  Edith  had 
aroused  the  latent  energies  of  his  soul,  and  his  heart 
yearned  for  human  sympathy.  He  had  lived  a  lonely 
life  ;  his  whole  soul  had  been  possessed  by  the  one  idea 
of  making  money.  He  did  not  think  that  anyone  else 
was  suffering  while  he  was  following  this  false  light, 
but  here  was  Edith,  who  had  been  yearning  for  her 
father's  love  and  had  been  denied  it.  Her  face 
haunted  him  ;  her  voice  was  ringing  in  his  ears.     Her 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  65 

words  were  present  iu  his  memory.  Her  face  and 
voice  reminded  him  of  one  that  he  had  known  long 
ago — one  that  he  had  loved  in  the  years  gone  by. 
Who  could  it  be?  Why,  Mary  his  wife,  of  course, 
whom  he  had  almost  forgotten  that  he  ever  loved,  and 
when  he  married  her  she  looked  like  Edith  ;  why  to  be 
sure,  and  he  had  almost  forgotten  it.  He  felt  an 
indescribable  desire  to  tell  her  that  he  loved  her  yet, 
and  called  her  to  him.  When  she  came  and  stood 
beside  his  bed  the  vision  created  by  a  sick  man's  fancy 
faded ;  for  it  was  not  Edith's  bright  and  sunny  face 
that  bent  over  him,  but  his  wife's,  and  the  twenty 
years  that  she  had  toiled  by  his  side  had  left  their 
mark  there.  The  youth  and  beauty  had  gone,  and  her 
hair  was  streaked  with  gray.  It  was  Mary  Shane  that 
stood  beside  him,  and  not  the  vision  of  Mary  Malott 
that  Edith's  face  had  recalled  ;  and  he  was  John  Shane 
again  with  wrinkled  face  and  stooping  shoulders.  The 
vision  had  faded  and  the  words  of  affection  that  his 
lips  should  have  uttered  were  left  unsaid. 

"Did  you  want  something,  John?" 

"Only  a  little  assistance  in  changing  my  position," 
he  replied. 

That  done,  she  started  away.  His  conscience  smote 
him  and  the  vision  came  back.  He  recalled  her  and 
she  returned  to  his  bedside. 

"What  is  it,  John?"  she  inquired. 

"I  am  lonely  to-night,"  he  replied;  "can't  you  sit 
with  me  a  while?'* 

"Why,  yes  ;  all  night  if  you  need  me." 


66  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

She  sat  clown  by  him,  and  he  told  her  how  he  was 
beginning  to  see  that  his  life  was  not  what  it  should  bo. 
That  he  had  neglected  his  duty  as-  a  husband  and 
father,  and  had  lived  too  much  alone,  and  that  hence- 
forth he  wanted  to  take  his  family  more  into  his  confi- 
dence. He  would  have  told  her  that  he  loved  her  as  of 
yore,  but  it  had  been  so  long  since  he  had  spoken  such 
words  ( f  affection  to  her  that  the  words  came  but 
awkwardly  to  his  lips,  and  he  left  them  unspoken. 
She  replied,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  that  she  knew  that 
their  thoughts  had  been  drifting  apart,  and  she  hailed 
with  joy  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day,  T^^hen  their  lives 
would  flow  in  the  same  channel. 

Soothed  by  these  thoughts  he  soon  fell  asleep,  and 
his  tired  and  worn  out  wife  retired  to  rest,  hoping  that 
the  future  might  not  dispel  the  bright  hopes  raised  that 
night. 


m 


CHAPTER   IX. 


HE  thoughts  of  the  night  vanished  with  the 
gleams  of  the  rising  sun,  and  the  good 
resohitions  that  John  Shane  had  made  in 
his  conversation  with  his  wife  were  soon 
The  coming  of  day  always  meant  more  to 
'  him,  and  the  habit  of  being  up  with  the  sun  to  engage 
;  in  his  daily  toil  was  of  such  a  fixed  character  that  it 
angered  him  to  think  that  he  was  confined  to  his  bed. 
.  Edith's  tenderness  had  led  his  fancy  back  twenty  years, 
r  and  he  felt  again  the  hopes  that  had  inspired  him  in 
i  former  years  when  Mary  Malott  became  his  wife  ;  but 
[  the  light  of  day  brought  back  the  thoughts  of  his  busi- 
:  ness,  and  he  was  even  a  little  ashamed  that  he  had 
'-..  allowed  himself  to  indulge  in  such  thoughts  and  words 
as  he  did  the  night  before. 

The  breath  of  mammon  had  dissipated  the  perfume 

of  holiness  that  had  penetrated  his  heart,  and  he  was 

again  the  man  of  business,  blinded  by  the  glitter  of 

gold,  unable  to  see  the  beauties  of  a  trusting  wife  and 

^  a  loving  daughter. 

f      Time  passed  on  until  two  weeks  had  elapsed  since 

f  the  accident,  and  the  strike  was  strictly  maintained  by 

all  the  animals.     Their  lot  had  been  a  little  easier  since 


68  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

Shane  had  been  confined  to  the  house  and  they  had 
only  Tom  to  contend  with,  for  Mike  was  not  a  hard- 
hearted fellow,  but  had  only  done  the  bidding  of  his 
employer.  He  never  abused  the  dumb  animals  on  the 
farm  when  he  could  avoid  it. 

"I'll  tell  ye,  Tom,"  said  Mike,  one  day,  "let's  thry 
a  little  different  plan  wid  thim  horses,  an'  see  if  we 
can't  build  'em  up  a  bit." 

"Bother  the  horses  ;  they're  goin'  to  destruction  like 
everything  else  on  the  farm,"  said  Tom. 

"  Be  aisy,  now,  'til  I  tell  ye  how  we'll  do  it.  Let's 
clane  out  the  stables,  an'  put  clane  straw  in  the  stalls 
for  beddin'.  Thin  we'll  make  a  nice  warm  mash  for 
'em  to  ate,  an'  thrate  'em  like  gintlemen,  begorra,  an' 
see  if  we  can't  put  some  life  into  'em." 

"You  can  try  it  if  you  want  to,  but  I  shan't  fool 
away  my  time  that  way,"  said  Tom. 

"By  your  lave  I'll  thry  that  same  plan  mesilf,  thin," 
said  Mike. 

Mike  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  brought  the 
horses  up  at  night,  and  had  bedding  of  nice  clean  straw 
for  them  to  sleep  on.  He  curried,  brushed  and  rubbed 
them,  until  their  neglected  coats  began  to  shine  again. 
He  saw  that  they  were  properly  fed  w^th  good  whole- 
some food,  and  closed  the  openings  in  the  stable,  that 
the  night  winds  might  not  blow  on  them. 

"What's  up  now,  do  you  suppose?"  said  Dobbin, 
after  Mike  had  gone  away.  "This  begins  to  look  like 
things  were  turning  our  way." 

"I  don't  like  favors  coming  from  the  hand  of  the 


THE  8TRIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  69 

enemy,"  said  Dick.  "Let's  go  slow  until  we  find  out 
if  there  isn't  some  trick  in  it."  " 

"Well,  no  matter  what  the  cause  of  the  change  is, 
I'm  going  to  get  all  the  pleasure  I  can  out  of  my  im- 
proved condition  for  one  night,  anyhow,"  said  the  sor- 
rel horse  ;  and  the  gray  mare  said  ;  ' '  Them's  my  senti- 
ments.'* 

Mike  followed  up  his  plan  by  giving  them  the  same 
attention  the  next  day,  and  the  horses  began  to  think 
that  a  change  had  come  for  the  better,  but  Dick  main- 
tained that  it  was  because  their  old  enemy  Shane  was 
laid  up.  Mike  never  was  a  cruel  master,  and  he 
thought  Mike  was  taking  advantage  of  his  employer's 
sickness  to  give  them  a  little  better  treatment. 

"  Well,  if  Mike  is  going  to  be  fair  with  us,  let's  be 
fair  with  him,"  said  the  sorrel.  "I'm  kind  of  tired  of 
pla^dng  sick,  anyhow." 

"I  don't  object  to  working  for  anybody  that  will 
treat  me  fair,"  said  Dick;  "and  if  Mike  is  going  to 
treat  us  right  I  am  willing  to  work." 

About  this  time  Mike  went  up  to  the  house  to  see 
Mr.  Shane. 

"Mornin'  to  ye,  Misther  Shane ;  an'  how  are  ye  this 
mornin'?"  said  Mike. 

"Bad,  Mike,  still  bad,"  said  Shane;  "everything 
is  goin'  to  ruin  on  the  place  I  suppose." 

"Faith  now  an'  they're  not.  I've  been  tindin'  to 
thim  horses  mesilf  for  a  few  days  ;  I'm  tindin'  to  'em 
rigular,  and  ye  ought  to  see  the  improvement  in  'em. 
Why,  they'll  all  be  at  work  again  in  a  few  days." 


70  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHAKE'S, 

*'Well,  that's  some  eucouragement  anyhow,"  said 
Shane.     "What  are  you  doing  for  the  horses?" 

"I'm  just  tratin'  'em  like  gintlemen.  Pm  doin' 
unto  tliim  horses  as  I  would  have  thim  do  unto  me.  I 
ain't  much  of  a  scholar,  and  maybe  not  so  good  a 
Christian  as  I  ought  to  be,  but  I  belave  that's  a  good 
rule  to  go  by.  Just  trate  'em  kindly  an'  dacently,  an' 
that's  the  whole  sacret  of  it  all.  Just  lave  me  alone 
wid  'em,  an'  I'll  have  'em  at  work  again  in  a  few 
days." 

Edith  came  in  shortly  after  Mike  took  his  leave. 

"  Good  morning,  Edie  ;  I  believe  I  feel  a  little  bet- 
ter this  morning,"  said  Shane.  * 

"I'm  glad  to 'hear  that,"  said  Edith.  "I'll  just 
open  the  window  so  that  you  can  see  out.  I'm  afraid 
mamma  is  going  to  be  sick ;  she  is  scarcely  able  to 
be  up." 

"AVhy,  what  is  the  matter  with  her?"  inquired 
Shane.  He  had  been  so  engrossed  by  his  own  selfish 
thoughts  that  he  had  not  noticed  that  his  wife  was 
wearing  out  under  the  increased  duties  put  upon  her 
since  his  sickness. 

Sure  enough  Mrs.  Shane  was  tkken  sick  that  day, 
and  Towser  carried  the  news  to  the  barnyard. 

"Well  now,  that's  bad,"  said  Dobbin.  "  Some  one 
of  us  will  have  to  go  for  a  doctor." 

"I'll  go,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  hope  they'll  take  me,"  said  the  sorrel.  "  I  am 
tired  of  staying  at  home,  anyhow." 

Mike  was  called  up  to  go  for  a  physician.     "Time 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  71 

is  money,"  he  said;  "  an' I'll  just  take  one  of  these 
horses.  I  wonther  which  one  of  the  lazy  rogues  I'd 
bether  take." 

Dick  whinnied,  as  much  as  to  say,  "I'll  go.'* 

"Ah!  ye  rogue,  would  ye  thry  yer  ould  thrick  an' 
run  away  wid  me  ?  But  ye're  the  fastest  one  of  the  lot, 
an'  I'll  thry  ye  anyhow." 

He  harnessed  Dick,  and  hitched  him  to  the  bugg3\ 
Once  in  the  highway,  Dick  skimmed  over  the  ground 
like  a  bird  and  soon  brought  the  physician  to  Mrs. 
Shane's  bedside. 

"  It  was  just  a  case  of  overwork  and  lack  of  sleep," 
said  the  physician.  "Too  much  hard  work  in  the  day, 
and  sitting  up  of  nights,  and  all  she  needed  was  com- 
plete rest." 

Mr.  Tracy  came  over  that  day  to  see  Shane. 

"  Things  are  worse  than  ever,  now,  neighbor  Tracy," 
said  Shane,  and  he  related  his  new  misfortune  in  his 
wife's  sickness.  "Wh}^,  I  never  thought  about  her 
overworkin'  herself,"  he  said. 

"Well,  if  you'll  allow  me  to  speak  plainly  to  you, 
neighbor  Shane,  you  should  have  seen  that  your  wife 
was  breaking  down  under  the  strain  of  increased  duties 
that  have  been  put  upon  her  since  your  sickness." 

"I  admit  it,"  said  Shane;  "but  I  had  so  many 
things  to  think  of  that  I  never  thought  of  it." 

"Why,  my  dear  friend,  is  there  anything  more  im- 
portant to  3^ou  than  the  health  and  happiness  of  your 
family?  The  happiness  of  those  who  are  dependent 
upon  you   should  be  the  uppermost  thought  in  your 


72  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE' 8. 

mind.  The  wife  who  has  confided  her  life  to  your 
keeping  should  be  the  first  in  yonv  thoughts." 

"I  really  had  not  thought  about  her  being  over- 
worked," said  Shane. 

' '  You  have  a  false  idea  of  the  powers  of  endurance 
of  both  man  and  beast.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  ph^^si- 
cal  endurance  of  both,  which  can  be  and  often  is 
exceeded.  You  have  the  proof  of  that  statement 
before  3'ou.  Y(^ur  wife  is  down  sick  from  overwork, 
and  your  horses  are  disabled  from  the  same  cause." 

"There,  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  Shane.  "It's 
just  a  streak  of  bad  luck  I  have  struck,  and  I  couldn't 
help  it." 

"If  you  would  just  stop  and  reason  about  the  mat- 
ter you  would  see  it  in  a  different  light.  I  don't  want 
to  intrude  upon  your  private  affairs,  but  I  feel  that  it 
is  my  duty  to  present  some  things  to  you  in  the  light 
that  I  see  them,  for  I  think  that  you  are  blinded,  and 
do  not  see  things  that  are  to  your  interest.  You  have 
sacrificed  your  own  happiness  and  that  of  your  family 
to  get  money,  and  what  have  you  got  in  return?  Why, 
nothing ;  while  I,  who  have  followed  the  other  rule  of 
seeking  happiness,  have  more  of  this  world's  wealth 
than  you  have,  and  I  do  not  want  to  say  it  with  any 
thought  of  boasting." 

"You  always  was  lucky,"  said  Shane. 

"There  is  no  luck  about  it,"  said  Tracy.  "The 
word  of  God  is  true,  and  if  a  man  tries  to  follow  its 
teachings  I  believe  he  will  be  prospered." 

Edith  had  come  in  and  sat  down  by  Shane's  bed- 
side, and  taken  his  hand  in  hers. 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  73 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "I  think  Mr.  Tracy  is  right,  and 
I  wish  you  would  heed  his  words." 

' '  There  is  something  peculiar  about  the  condition  of 
things  here  on  the  farm,"  continued  Tracy,  "  which  lam 
unable  to  understand  ;  and  while  I  don't  think  that  God 
ever  singles  out  one  individual  on  which  to  inflict  pun- 
ishment, yet  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that  the  situation 
of  things  here  is  a  matter  of  chance.  Why,  if  you 
have  not  noticed  it  I  will  call  j^our  attention  to  the 
fact  that  there  is  not  a  bird  on  your  farm." 

"Yes,  papa;  if  you  will  just  listen  there  is  not  a 
bird's  voice  to  be  heard,  and  they  used  to  sing  so 
sweetly,"  said  Edith.  "It  is  so  lonely  without  them, 
and  makes  me  feel  like  some  great  misfortune  is  hang- 
ing over  us." 

"I  think  my  attention  had  been  called  to  their 
absence,"  said  Shane  ;  "but  I  thought  I  was  lucky  to 
get  rid  of  'em." 

"Quite  the  contrary,"  said  Tracy,  "  it  is  the  most 
unfortunate  thing  that  has  occurred  to  you.  Those 
birds  that  you  have  been  trying  to  kill  all  your  life, 
and  which  you  have  succeeded  in  driving  away,  would 
have  saved  your  crop,  which  has  been  destroyed  by 
worms  and  insects.  Why,  there  have  been  hundreds 
of  them  in  my  fields  all  the  spring,  and  see  what  a  fine 
prospect  I  have  for  a  good  cro]).  If  you  would  take 
time  to  study  these  matters  you  would  see  that  birds 
are  one  of  the  best  gifts  God  has  given  us.  They 
destroy  immense  numbers  of  insects  that  are  injurious 
to  trees  and  plants,  and  I  think  that  all  the  vegetation 


74  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

on  your  farm  shows  the  absence  of  what  would  be  your 
best  friends.  Whether  you  drove  them  away  or 
whether  some  superior  intelligence  directed  their  flight 
I  cannot  tell,  but  they  are  gone,  and  your  farm  is  suf- 
fering from  their  absence." 

"That  is  true,  papa.  The  birds  were  your  friends, 
and  you  drove  them  away,"  said  Edith. 

"There  may  be  something  in  that,"  said  Shane,  half 
con-sinced  ;   "an'  I'll  think  about  it." 

"God  gave  us  the  beasts  and  birds  for  our  use  and 
benefit.  He  gave  man  dominion  over  them,  and  he 
has  not  withdrawn  or  changed  his  law ;  but  he  can 
remove  them  from  our  presence,  as  he  has  removed 
the  birds  from  this  farm.  He  can  disable  the  dumb 
animals  so  that  they  cannot  work  for  us,  as  is  the 
case  with  your  horses,  although  I  think  the  condi- 
tion of  your  horses  is  the  result  of  overwork.  You 
will  have  to  admit  that  you  have  overworked  your 
horses  this  spring.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  they 
all  became  afflicted  at  the  same  time,  and  one  that  I 
can't  understand.  You  must  realize,  friend  Shane, 
that  horses  have  a  physical  construction  similar  to  our 
own,  and  that  their  strength  can  be  overtaxed  the 
same  as  a  man's,  and  if  overwork  will  break  down 
your  wife's  health,  as  you  now  see  that  it  has,  why 
will  it  not  do  the  same  to  a  horse  ? " 

' '  I  begin  to  see  that  I  may  have  been  mistaken  in 
regard  to  these  matters,"  said  Shane,  and  Edith  gave 
his  hand  an  encouraging  clasp. 

"Why,  kindness  goes  a  long  way  with  dumb  brutes 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  75 

in  helping  them  to  bear  up  under  hard  work,"  con- 
tinued Tracy,  '''•and  I  fear  that  you  haven't  given  your 
animals  the  encouragement  of  kind  icords  even.  Love 
and  kindness  are  the  powers  that  govern  the  world. 
You  may  control  a  horse  by  force  for  a  while,  but  if  he 
has  any  spirit  it  will  breakout  sometime,  and  the  horse 
by  his  superior  strength  will  be  master,  as  was  the  case 
with  Dick  when  he  ran  away  with  you.  Mike  said  he 
never  saw  a  horse  drive  nicer  than  Dick  did  when  he 
went  after  the  doctor.  Why,  you  wouldn't  know  your 
own  horses,  Shane,  since  Mike  has  been  applying  the 
'golden  rule'  to  them,  as  he  says.  If  they  keep  on 
improving  they  will  be  at  work  again  in  a  short  time." 

"Won't  that  be  nice,  papa?"  said  Edith. 

"I  just  give  you  these  points  to  think  about,  and 
when  you  get  up  put  them  into  practice,  and  see  if  it 
don't  prove  more  profitable  than  the  old  way.  I'll  get 
the  neighbors  together  and  we'll  replant  that  corn  and 
see  if  you  can't  make  a  crop  yet.  I'll  send  Cora,  over 
to  help  Edie  with  the  work  until  you  can  get  some  one 
else.  So  good  bye,  friend  Shane,  and  don't  worry 
about  your  business,  for  your  neighbors  will  help  you 
out." 


CHAPTER   X. 


HANE  thought  seriously  about  the  conver- 
sation he  had  with  Tracy,  and  came  to  the 
conchision  that  perhaps  he  had  been  fol- 
lowing a  false  light  —that  he  had  not 
gotten  as  much  happiness  out  of  life  as  he  might.  He 
recalled  many  acts  of  unkindness  towards  the  wife  and 
daughter  who  loved  him,  and  he  resolved  to  lead  a  dif- 
ferent life. 

AVhile  these  thoughts  were  in  his 'mind  Edith  came 
into  the  room  and  sat  down  beside  him. 

*'How  is  your  mother  now,  Edie?"  he  said. 

*'I  think  she  is  better,  papa." 

*'Edie,  I've  been  thinkin'  that  I  haven't  done  right 
by  her.  I  haven't  made  her  life  as  happy  as  I  might, 
an'  I'm  goin'  to  change  things  when  I  get  well.'* 

**I'm  sure  mamma  never  complains,  jDapa,  but  we 
would  all  be  so  much  happier  if  you  would  give  us  the 
same  love  you  used  to,"  said  Edith,  "  and  give  up  this 
struggle  for  money  and  try  to  be  happy." 

*' That's  what  I'm  goin'  to  do,  Edie." 

*'0h!  papa,  I'm  so  glad,"  and  she  put  her  arms 
around  his  neck. 

''And,  Edie,  you  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  readin' 
])ooks  ;  what  do  you  think  of  Tracy's  ideas  in  regard  to 
animals  ?  " 

76 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHADE'S.  77 

"They  are  true,  papa,  they  are  true,"  she  said. 
"God  gave  us  the  bh'ds  aud  ammals,  and  I  think 
it  is  a  sin  for  us  to  abuse  them.  He  will  certainly  hold 
us  to  account  for  our  treatment  of  his  creatures."  Her 
bowed  head  bent  over  his  face,  and  a  tear-drop  from 
her  eye  fell  on  his  cheek.  "And  oh!  papa,  if  you 
would  be  loving  and  kind,  not  only  to  mamma  and 
Tom  and  me,  but  to  all  the  living  creatures  that  God  has 
given  us,  I  would  love  you  so  much,  and  we  would  be 
so  much  happier." 

"There,  now,  daughter,  don't  cry.  I  beheve  you 
are  right  about  it,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  change  things  an' 
try  a  new  way.  It  may  come  a  little  awkAvard  at  first, 
but  I  think  I  can  get  used  to  it." 

"Oh!  papa,  I'm  so  glad.  I'll  go  and  tell  mamma, 
and  it  will  help  her  to  get  well,"  said  Edith. 

"Just  send  Tom  in ;  I  want  to  talk  to  him  awhile," 
said  Shane. 

Tom  sauntered  into  his  father's  room  wondering  what 
was  up,  for  he  had  seen  by  Edith's  face  that  some- 
thing important  had  happened. 

"Tom,"  said  Shane,  after  a  pause  of  a  few  seconds, 
"I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  we  haven't  been 
runnin'  the  farm  on  the  right  principle.  I  know  you've 
been  follerin'  in  my  footsteps  an'  doin'  things  as  I  do 
'em,  which  is  quite  natural  for  a  boy  to  do  ;  but  I  guess 
Ave've  been  mistaken  in  a  few  things,  an'  we'll  just  take 
a  square  turn  an'  make  a  new  start  in  another  direction. 
There's  somethin'  wrong  on  the  farm,  an'  if  it's  a  judg- 
ment sent  on  us  for  some  of  our  shortcomings,  why, 


78  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S, 

let's  try  an'  git  iu  the  right  path  agiu.  We'll  try  kind- 
ness toward  our  dumb  animals,  an'  the  birds,  an'  each 
other,  an'  see  if  that  ain't  a  better  rule  to  live  by.** 

"I'm  agreed  to  that,"  said  Tom,  much  to  his  father's 
surprise,  "for  I've  been  thinking  some  that  way  my- 
self, since  Mike  has  been  takin'  care  of  the  horses  an' 
applyin'  the  'golden  rule'  to  'em,  as  he  says.  It  has 
helped  'em  more  than  all  of  Hodge's  doctorin'." 

"Well,  we'll  try  the  rule  of  kindness  from  now  on," 
said  Shane,  and  so  the  matter  was  settled. 

Towser,  who  had  been  lying  under  the  window,  got 
up  and  capered  about  the  yard  for  pure  joy,  and  the 
next  morning,  before  daybreak,  he  was  out  in  the 
barnyard  and  had  related  the  whole  story  of  Shane's 
new  resolutions,  which  created  quite  a  sensation  among 
the  animals. 

"I  think  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  all  true, 
for  we  have  had  much  better  treatment  in  the  past 
week  than  ever  before  in  our  li\i>s,"  said  Dobbin. 

"I  feel  quite  well  this  morning,  and  if  1  had  a  good 
feed  I  think  I  could  pull  a  plow,"  said  the  sorrel. 

"Under  the  circumstances  I'm  ready  to  go  to  work 
again,"  said  the  gray  mare. 

"I  wish  I  could  lay  two  eggs  to-day,"  cackled  the 
hen,  and  as  an  evidence  of  her  good  intentions  she 
made  a  new  nest  on  the  barn  floor,  where  Edith  could 
not  help  but  find  it. 

Dobbin  called  another  convention  of  all  the  birds 
and  animals  for  the  purpose  of  declaring  the  strike 
ended,  and  Towser  volunteered  to  carry  the  news  all 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  79 

around ;  and  at  noon,  when  they  met  at  the  oak  tree, 
there  was  not  one  absent.  Towser  related  what  he  had 
heard  under  the  window,  and  they  all  accepted  the 
matter  as  a  settled  fact. 

Dobbin  declared  the  strike  ended,  and  requested 
them  all  to  go  to  work  in  good  earnest  to  help  Shane 
out  of  his  troubles.  The  horses  all  agreed  to  go  to 
work  the  next  day.  The  cow  said  she  would  astonish 
everybody  by  the  amount  of  milk  she  would  give. 

Towser  told  them  that  farmer  Tracy  had  promised 
that  the  neighbors  would  come  and  replant  the  corn  the 
next  day. 

"Then  I  will  have  a  few  hundreds  of  my  friends 
here  to  kill  all  the  worms  in  the  field  if  they  will  let 
us,"  said  the  blackbird,  and  all  the  other  birds  volun- 
teered their  assistance  and  promised  that  the  farm 
should  be  immediately  inhabited  by  an  army  of  birds. 

The  meeting  adjourned  sine  die,  and  then  there  was 
great  rejoicing  over  the  success  of  the  strike. 

"Why,  there's  a  robin  in  the  cedar  tree,**  said 
Pxlith,  in  surprise  that  afternoon.  "It  seems  like  a 
promise  of  better  times  to  hear  its  welcome  voice. 
Why,  mamma,  just  listen,  there  is  a  host  of  them 
coming." 

The  trees  were  soon  filled  with  birds  of  all  kinds, 
which  chirped  and  sang  with  all  their  power. 

"Papa,  just  listen  to  the  birds,"  said  Edith,  entering 
her  father's  room.  "Isn't  it  delightful  to  have  them 
back  again?" 

"It  does  seem  more  pleasant  to  have  'em  here,"  said 


80  TBE  STRIKE  AT  SHAKE'S. 

Shane;  *' but  it's  the  strangest  thing  lever  heard  of 
that  they'd  all  come  back  at  once." 

''''Perhaps  God  sent  them  back  on  account  of  your 
good  resolutions  to  he  kind  to  all  his  creatures  "  said 
Edith,  and  she  knelt  down  by  his  bedside  and  put  her 
arms  around  his  neck.  ' '  Promise  me  here  in  His  name, 
papa,  that  you  will  keep  that  resolution.** 

''I  do,"  he  answered. 

*' Well,  I  never  seen  the  like,"  shouted  Tom,  as  he 
came  bolting  into  the  house.  "Them  horses  are  just 
prancin'  an'  runnin'  all  over  the  pasture,  just  like  they 
never  had  anything  the  matter  with  'em.  Seems  like 
Mike's  treatment  was  purty  good  to  cure  'em  up  so 
soon.  I  think  old  Hodges  had  better  take  a  few  les- 
sons from  him." 

"  Tes,  and  don't  forget  to  take  a  few  lessons  your- 
self, Tom,  for  you  may  have  to  practice  in  that  line. 
Listen  to  the  birds,  too,"  said  Edith. 

"By  gracious  I  hadn't  noticed  *em.  It  begins  to 
look  like  the  old  place  was  coming  back  to  itself,  don't 
it  ? "  and  he  caught  her  around  the  waist  and  whirled 
her  away  in  a  fantastic  dance,  until  she  broke  loose 
from  him  to  go  to  her  mother's  room  with  the  good 
news. 

In  the  morning,  as  Tom  went  out  to  the  barn  he 
saw  three  or  four  cats  running  about  the  barn,  and 
picked  up  a  stone  to  throw  at  them.  *■ 

"  5e  aisy  there ^  noic"  said  Mike;  ^  ifs  agin  the 
rules  to  do  that  noio,'* 

"Right  you  are,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  I  can't  get  used 
to  it.     What  arc  they  doing  here,  anyhow?" 


THE  STB  IKE  AT  SHAKE'S.  81 

*'Begorra,  they're  killin'  all  the  rats  in  the  barn,  an' 
the  divil  a  rat  can  get  away  from  all  thim  cats." 

"Good  luck  to  'em,  then,  for  the  rats  were  about  to 
take  us,"  said  Tom.     "How  were  the  horses?" 

"Now,  look  ye,  Tom;  do  ye  mind  how  lame  thim 
horses  was?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  the  di^^l  a  stiff  leg  is  there  among  'em  at  all, 
except  Dobbin." 

"How  do  you  account  for  it?"  asked  Tom. 

"  Ifs  the  tratement  I  give  'em.  Tve  got  a  resati 
for  it^  an*  it's  good  for  man  an*  baste,  an'  ivery  other 
living  crayture.  Ye' 11  find  it  in  the  Good  Book,  an'  its 
like  this  :  '  Do  thou  unto  others  as  thou  loouldst  have 
them  do  unto  thee^'  an'  that's  a  good  resate,  hegorra" 

"Why,  Mike,  you're  getting  poetical." 

"  Sure  an'  I'm  feelin'  poetical,  an'  if  me  voice  wasn't 
out  of  tune  I'd  sing  ye  a  bit  of  a  song." 

"Never  mind  your  voice  ;  give  us  the  song." 

' '  Thin  here  goes  wid  a  song  I  composed  mesilf  to 
suit  the  occasion  :  — 

I'm  Michael  McCarty, 

So  hale  and  so  hearty — 

I  work  ivery  day  in  the  year ; 

The  horses  all  know  me, 

The  cattle  all  show  me 

They  know  they  have  nothing  to  fear. 

Stan'  up  for  the  brutes, 
An'  the  birds,  if  it  suits 
An'  the  chickens  an'  turkeys  alone, 


82  THE  STBIKE  AT  SHAXE'S. 

For  God  made  'em  all, 

'An  they  came  at  his  call, 

An'  he  gave  'em  to  man  for  his  own. 

We  shouldn't  abuse  'em. 
Nor  cruelly  use  'era ; 
Begorra,  I  know  I  am  right, 

An'  before  ye  shall  do  it, 

I'll  have  ye  to  know  it, 

'Tis  Michael  M'Carty  ye'll  fight.'' 

** Bravo!  Mike,"  shouted  Edith,  who  had  entered 
the  barn  unperceived  just  as  Mike  commenced  his 
song. 

"Faith,  I  didn't  know  I  had  such  an  ilegant  audi- 
ence, or  sure  I'd  have  been  blushin'  all  the  time." 

"  Quite  unnecessary,  I  am  sure,"  said  Edith  ;  "your 
audience  appreciates  j^our  song,  and  will  encore  you  on 
the  slightest  provocation." 

"Thin  I  could  only  bow  me  thanks,  for  sure  'tis  the 
only  song  I  know,"  said  Mike;  "an'  'tis  that  swate 
voice  of  yours  we  would  like  to  hear,  if  ye'll  be  so 
kind  as  to  sing  us  a  song." 

"Oh  !  excuse  me,  please,"  said  Edith. 

"Oh!  come,  now,"  said  Tom,  "  you  slipped  into  our 
entertainment  an'  you  can't  get  off  so  easy.  Give  us 
a  song  or  I'll  lock  you  in  the  barn." 

"An'  I'll  let  ye  out,"  said  Mike,  "but  sing  us  a 
song,  because  ye're  a  nice,  swate  little  girl  an'  want 
to  plaze  yer  f rinds." 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  83 

"AVell,  if  T  must,  I  will,"  said  Edith,  and  she  sang 
the  foUomng  lines  to  the  tune  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne"  : 

This  earth  was  ouce  inhabited 

By  birds  and  beasts  alone, 
AVho  held  dominion  over  it, 

And  ruled  it  as  their  own 

'Till  God  created  man  and  made 

Him  ruler  over  all ; 
And  then  the  birds  and  beasts  at  once 

Fell  prostrate  at  his  call. 

Restrain  the  hand  in  anger  raised 

To  treat  them  cruelly ; 
He  gave  them  as  a  precious  gift 

In  trust  to  you  and  me. 

He  gave  them  for  our  benefit. 

And  not  to  be  abused. 
And  he  who  violates  that  trust 

Stands  before  God  accused. 

Then  do  to  them  as  thou  wouldst  wish 

That  they  should  do  to  thee. 
And  do  not  violate  the  trust 

God  placed  in  you  and  me. 

** Thank  ye.  Miss  Edith,  thank  ye;  it's  a  beautiful 
song,  it  is.  I'm  not  much  at  the  singin'  like  ye  are  ; 
but  I  can  be  doin'  them  things  ye  sung  about,  an*  I'll 
not  be  forgettin'  'em  soon." 

''Now,  come  on,  bye,  an'  let's  be  gettin'  ready  for 
the  work.  The  neighbors  mil  all  be  comin'  in  purty 
soon  to  replant  the  corn,  an'  won't  they  be  surprised 
to  see  us  wid  a  good  team  goiu'  out  into  the  field  to 
work  ?    Begorra  they  will.** 


CHAPTER   XI. 


OHN  Shane's  neighbors  came  promptly  to 
his  assistance,  as  they  always  do  in  farming- 
communities.  They  came  with  their  teams 
and  tools,  prepared  to  put  in  the  corn,  and 
the  work  of  plowing  up  the  ground  and  replanting  the 
corn  went  merrily  on.  The  birds  came  and  did  their 
share  of  the  work.  They  followed  the  plows  all  day 
long  and  caughf  every  worm  that  came  to  view.  The 
men  plowed  the  ground  and  harrowed  it  and  stirred  it 
all  they  could,  so  that  the  birds  might  get  the  worms. 
Shane's  horses  went  to  the  work  with  a  will,  and  did  as 
much  as  any  team  on  the  farm.  It  was  a  glorious  day, 
and  a  jollier  crowd  of  men  never  got  together  than 
these  same  farmers.  They  felt  happy  because  they 
were  doing  a  generous  deed,  and  they  worked  with  a 
will  until  noon.  The  dinner  bell  rang  and  they  went 
to  the  house  to  meet  a  fresh  surprise.  Every  man's 
wife  and  daughter  was  there,  and  they  had  spread  a 
long  table  under  the  trees,  and  put  on  it  a  feast  that 
would  tempt  the  appetite  of  an  epicure. 

They  had  gotten  Mr.  Shane  in  a  chair  and  placed 
him  at  the  window  where  he  could  see  it  all ;  and 
Mrs.  Shane  sat  by  his  side,  husband  and  wife,  happier 


THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S.  8$ 

than  they  had  been  in  many  years.  What  a  great 
feast  that  was  there  under  the  trees.  What  appetites 
the  men  had,  and  how  eager  the  women  were  to  satisfy 
them.  They  laughed  and  joked  and  ate,  and  there 
never  was  such  a  jolly  time  as  they  had  on  the  Shane 
farm. 

They  worked  all  day  and  came  back  the  next  day, 
and  worked  until  every  hill  of  corn  was  planted  again. 
The  next  day  the  rain  fell  and  moistened  the  ground, 
and  the  sun  came  out  and  warmed  it,  and  the  corn 
sprouted  and  grew,  and  there  was  a  great  prospect  for 
the  future.  'Tis  true  the  worms  took  some  of  it,  but 
they  had  put  an  extra  grain  in  each  hill  for  the  worms. 
The  birds  could  not  get  all  the  worms,  but  they  got 
most  of  them.  The  Shane  farm  was  getting  in  accord 
with  the  plan  of  the  universe,  and  prosperity  was  smil- 
ing on  it. 

Shane  felt  that  he  was  in  the  right  path  now,  and  he 
studiously  followed  it.  During  the  time  he  was  con- 
fined to  the  house  with  his  broken  limb  Edith  had 
induced  him  to  read  the  books  loaned  her  by  Cora 
Tracy,  which  treat  of  animals  and  birds  and  their 
uses. 

In  a  few  more  weeks  Shane  recovered  so  much  that 
he  could  walk  about  the  farm  on  crutches.  He  could 
not  help  but  mark  the  difference  in  the  appearance  of 
things.  There  was  a  look  of  content  about  every- 
thing. 

The  first  time  he  went  to  the  barn  Dick  came  up  to 
him,  and  putting  out  his  nose  touched  Shane's  hand. 


86  THE  STRIKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

* '  I  actually  believe  the  horse  is  trying  to  ask  my 
pardon,"  said  Shane.  "It  would  be  more  proper  for 
me  to  ask  his  pardon  for  mistreating  him  so  long." 

He  patted  Dick's  neck  and  said,  "I  think  we  under- 
stand each  other  now,  old  fellow." 

"I  tell  ye,  Misther  Shane,  I  never  see  horses  work 
nicer  than  these  same  horses  of  yours,"  said  Mike. 
"I  think  we'll  have  Dobbin  prancin'  around  again 
purty  soon." 

"Poor  old  Dobbin.  I'm  afraid  he'll  not  get  much 
more  enjoyment  out  of  life,  but  he  shall  have  an  easy 
time  of  it  as  long  as  he  lives." 

But  ere  another  year  had  gone  by  old  Dobbin  found 
a  resting  place  beneath  the  sod,  and  the  question  was 
again  asked,  "  Who  knowefi  that  the  sjnrlt  of  man 
goeth  upivard  and  the  spirit  of  the  beast  goeth  down- 
ward  .^  "  God  created  him  and  made  him  subject  to  the 
will  of  man,  and  in  the  end  God  took  him.  The  part 
that  was  mortal  went  back  to  the  earth.  If  there  was 
any  immortal  element  in  him  God  took  it  and  knows 
what  to  do  with  it. 

The  work  went  on  merrily  on  the  Shane  farm,  and 
everything  prospered.  The  birds  did  their  duty  nobly, 
and  the  crops  were  looking  splendidly.  Shane  com- 
pletely recovered  from  his  broken  limb,  and  people 
remarked  that  Shane  didn't  seem  like  the  same  man  he 
used  to  be.  He  had  learned  that  the  birds  were  his 
friends  ;  he  had  watched  them  in  their  work  during  the 
summer,  and  noticed  how  diligent  they  were  in 
searching  for  insects.  They  took  a  few  cherries  and 
berries,  it  is  true,  but  when  he  came  to  estimate  the 


THE  8TBIKE  AT  SHANE'S,  87 

value  of  the  fruit  taken  he  saw  that  its  vahie  was 
greatly  overbalanced  by  the  benefits  he  received. 

He  had  been  accustomed  to  employing  men  to  work 
for  him,  and  he  estimated  the  wages  he  would  have  to 
pay  these  men  in  comparison  with  the  profits  he  could 
make  out  of  their  labor.  If  the  balance  was  on  his 
side  of  'the  account  he  employed  them,  and  if  not  he 
didn't.  He  estimated  the  same  way  in  regard  to  the 
birds. 

The  corn  crop  destroyed  by  the  worms  in  the  spring 
was  worth  more  than  all  the  fruit  on  his  farm,  and  the 
second  crop  planted,  which  he  believed  now  was  saved 
by  the  birds,  was  worth  all  the  fruit  he  would  raise  in 
several  years.     So  he  reasoned  the  matter  with  Edith. 

"But,  papa,"  she  said,  "isn't  there  something 
grander  and  nobler  in  this  question  than  the  mere 
money  side  of  it?" 

"Oh!  yes,  Edie ;  I  see  that  side  of  the  question, 
too.  /  recognize  now  that  they  are  God's  creatures, 
sent  for  our  benefit,  and  that  as  he  has  given  them  to  us 
he  can  take  them  away.'* 

* '  And  isn't  there  something  more  than  that  ?  "  asked 
Edith. 

' '  Yes  ;  I  appreciate  their  sweet  songs  now  as  I  never 
did  before.  There  are  a  great  many  beauties  in  nature 
that  I  never  saw  before.  I  begin  to  appreciate  the 
gentleness  and  docility  of  our  domestic  animals.  I 
don't  blame  Dick  for  running  away  with  me  ;  he  only 
retaliated  for  the  ill-usage  I  had  given  him.  I  do  not 
intend  that  any  dumb  animal  shall  ever  be  mistreated 
on  this  farm  again.'* 


88  TtiE  STBIKE  AT  SHAJ^JS'iS. 

"Faith  an'  I  don't  think  there's  iuy  body  on  the 
farm  now  that  wants  to  mistrate  'em,  Misther  Shane,'* 
said  Mike,  who  had  come  in  with  Tom. 

"I  can  trust  you,  Mike,  for  you  always  was  opposed 
to  mistreating  the  animals,  but  I  didn't  know  but  what 
Tom  might  have  some  of  the  old  ideas  yet,"  said 
Shane. 

"  Niver  ye  fear  for  that  bye,  Misther  Shane.  Be- 
gorra,  he's  a  bigger  crank  than  Misther  Tracy  himsilf , 
an'  I  think  it's  a  young  leedy  of  that  name  that's  having 
a  dale  of  influence  wid  'im  on  tliim  points^  eh  9  "  and  he 
gave  Tom  a  vigorous  poke  in  the  ribs. 

"Oh  !  shut  up,"  said  Tom,  "  that  rattle-clap  tongue 
of  yours  is  always  clattering  about  something." 

"All  right,  me  bye,  'tis  Michael  McCarty  knows  a 
thing  or  two,  an'  he  has  the  tongue  to  tell  yQ  of  it  wid. 
Arrah,  I've  been  kapin'  me  two  eyes  open  mesilf, 
this  summer,  an'  I've  changed  the  song  I  sung  ye  in 
the  spring  like  this  :  — 

Tom  Shane's  a  bye  of  some  good  sinse  — 

He's  goin'  to  use  it  all, 
An'  from  the  looks  of  things  just  now, 

Bedad  he'll  marry  this  fall, 

Bedad  he'll  marry  this  fall, 
An'  from  the  looks  of  things  just  now, 

Bedad  he'll  marry  this  fall. 

That  is,  ye  know,  if  he  can  get  his  feyther's  consint." 
The  laugh  was  at  Tom's  expense,  and  they  retired 

in  good  humor. 

"Mike's  surmise  was  correct,  for  Tom  Shane  and 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SH AXE'S.  89 

Cora  Tracy  were  married  the  next  winter,  and  it  was 
her  influence  which  had  worked  a  cliange  in  Tom's 
thoughts  and  actions  towards  the  lower  animals. 

The  summer  wore  away  and  the  winter  was  coming 
on.  Shane's  corn  crop  was  in  the  crib,  and  had  yielded 
far  beyond  his  expectations,  and  his  horses  were  sleek 
and  fat  and  happy.  He  had  brought  the  carpenters 
up  from  the  village  to  repair  the  stables  so  that  no  cold 
blasts  of  winter  winds  would  blow  on  his  horses.  He 
had  bought  blankets  for  his  horses  —  something  he  had 
never  done  before. 

The  cold  weather  came  on  apace,  and  about  the  mid- 
dle of  November  there  came  a  snowstorm.  The  piti- 
less blasts  of  wind  drove  the  snow  in  blinding  sheets 
across  the  fields,  and  made  the  warm  fireside  in  the 
Shane  household  seem  doubly  dear  to  all  who  love  a 
home. 

Edith  was  standing  at  the  window  watching  the 
gusts  of  wind  drive  the  snow  about. 

"  Oh  !  say,  papa,  there  is  some  animal  down  at  the 
gate,"  said  Edith.      "Are  any  of  ours  out?" 

"I  think  not,"  he  said,  coming  to  the  window. 
* '  Ah  I  it  is  that  old  mule  that  has  been  living  in  the 
highway  all  summer." 

"  Whom  does  it  belong  to,  papa?" 

"I  don't  know  ;  it  is  a  stray.  It  looks  hke  a  shame 
to  let  the  old  fellow  stand  out  there  and  starve,"  said 
Shane. 

"Let's  take  him  in  until  the  storm  is  over,  anyhow," 
said  Edith. 


90  THE  STlilKE  AT  SHANE'S. 

"  Well,  it  shall  be  done,"  said  Shane.  "Tom,  you 
an'  Mike  go  an'  put  that  old  mule  in  the  back  stall  an' 
give  him  something  to  eat." 

The  mule,  much  to  his  astonishment,  was  driven  into 
the  stable  and  put  in  a  warm  stall.  Corn  and  hay 
were  put  in  for  him  to  eat,  and  he  proceeded  to  fill  his 
empty  stomach  without  any  thought  of  saying  grace. 

' '  How  is  this  ?  "  he  cried  to  Dobbin  ;  ' '  there's  been 
some  changes  since  I  was  here  before." 

"Well,  I  should  say  so,"  said  Dobbin.  "  We  have 
everything  heart  could  wish  for  now." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  the  mule,  "and 
if  I  can  get  a  job  here  I'm  going  to  stay." 

"I  hope  you^  will,"  said  Dobbin,  "  for  we  all  feel 
kindly  towards  you  for  instructing  us  how  to  carry  on 
the  strike." 

"Well,  there's  one  mule  thoroughly  surprised,"  said 
Tom,  after  they  had  returned  to  the  house.  "1  never 
saw  an  animal  look  so  surprised  as  he  did  when  we  put 
him  in  the  stable ;  an'  the  way  he  shook  the  snow  off 
his  old  faded  hide  and  went  for  that  corn  was  a  sight 
to  see." 

"Well,  it  won't  cost  much  to  keep  him,  an'  I  guess 
we'U  just  let  him  stay  this  winter,"  and  the  mule  got 
his  job. 

"  That's  right,  Misther  Shane ^  an'  the  good  God  xmll 
give  ye  cridit  for  it  in  the  nixt  world,"  said  Mike. 

' '  A  nd  all  God-fearing  people  will  give  you  credit  for 
it  in  tMs  world,"  said  Mrs.  Shane, 


THE  STBIKE  AT  SH AXE'S. 


01 


"The  satisfaction  of  a  good  easy  conscience  is  all 
the  rcAvard  I  want,"  said  Shane. 

Prosperity  smiles  on  John  Shane's  farm,  and  no  con- 
sideration would  induce  him  to  return  to  the  old  way 
of  li\ing.  May  the  time  soon  come  ivlieii  all  memoill 
recognize  the  fact  that  the  laws  of  God  and  himianity 
require  us  to  be  merciful  to  the  dumb  animaJs,  and  to 
grant  the  same  justice  and  mercy  to  them  ive  loould  ask 
for  ourselves. 


W' 


*'WHAT    DO    YOU    MEAN     BY    HUMANE 
EDUCATION,    MR.    ANGELL?" 

I  answer. 

(i.)  That  which  tells  the  ill  effects  on  htimaii  being!',  of  the  ill  treat- 
ment of  dumb  animals  —  how  it  poisons  meats  and  milk  —  how  even  fish, 
killed  mercifully  as  soon  as  they  are  caught,  are  better  and  more  whole 
some  food  than  those  that  stcffer  h&ioxe.  they  die  —  how  important  bisect 
eating  birds  are  to  agriculture  — how  important  that  they  and  their  nests 
be  protected. 

(2.)     That  which  teaches  how  atiimals  should  be  cared foi as  to  tight 

check  reins,  blinders,  docking,  proper  food,  rest,  protection   from  the 
weather,  exercise,  kind  words,  and  a  merciful  death. 

(3.)  But  infinitely  more  important,  that  which 
tends  to  prevent  all  cruelty  y  both  to  our  own  a?id  the  lower 
races, 

(4.)  Through  over  sixty  years  of  my  own  life  I  can  remember  the 
songs  and  stories  of  my  boyhood.     They  have  influenced  mv  rvhole  life. 

(5.)  While  all  the  other  ■A7nerica7i  Colonies  rvere  at  war  with  the 
Indians,  the  Colony  founded  by  William  Penn  rested  t7i  perfect  peace. 

(6.)  In  1S78  I  called  upon  President  Hayes,  at  Washington,  to  ask  him 
to  put  in  his  annual  message  to  Congress  something  in  regard  to  the 
cruel  transportation  of  animals.  He  said  :  "  Wheti  I  was  at  school  I  once 
heard  a  sermon  in  regard  to  animals,  zvhich  I  have  never f org otte7i  "  /  and 
he  put  into  his  7nessage  to  Co7igfess  al77iost  verbatim  what  I  wrote. 

(7.)  In  1S75  I  addressed  the  Faculty  and  students  of  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege, 07t  the  relation  of  a7iimals  that  can  speak  to  those  that  are  diiittb. 

In  1885,  ten  years  later,  at  the  close  of  an  address  to  the  Faculty  and 
students  of  a  university  in  New  Orleans,  a  gentleman  rose  in  the  audi- 
ence and  said:  '^  Some  tenyears  ago  I  was  a  stude7it  in  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege, whe7t  Mr.  A7ig  ell  gave  a7i  address  there  07i  this  subject.  I  had  7iever 
thought  of  it  before.  Whe7i  I  left  college  no  07ie  thought  was  more 
strons^ly  impressed  07i  my  mind  tha7i  that  of  7ny  duty  to  the  lower  ani- 
mals."    He  was  the  superintendent  of  the  public  schools  of  Minneapolis. 

(8.)  In  iS7oand'7i  I  spent  about  six  months,  and  about  six  hundred 
dollars,  founding,  at  Chicago,  the  Illinois  Hiuna7ie  Society.  Although 
every  daily  paper  in  the  city  helped  me,  and  printed  columns  I  wrote,  I 
should  have  failed  to  raise  the  necessary  funds  but  for  07ie  mati  vjIw  had 
been  taught,  whe7i  a  little  boy  in  New  Hampshire.  kind7iess  to  animals.  In 
the  great  stock  yards  of  Chicago  alone  7niirions  of  du7nb  animals  are  now 
properly  fed  aiid  watered,  a7id  largely  protected  from  cruelty  every  year, 
because  that  little  boy  was  taught  kindness  to  ani7nals. 

Fathers  may  be  cruel,  mothers  may  be  cruel,  brothers  and  sisters  may 
be  cruel.  It  may  be  impossible  in  many  instances  to  teach  kindness 
through  the7n.  But  even  in  the  homes  of  crime,  hearts  may  be  made  more 
tender  by  kind  acts  and  words  for  the  dumb  creatures  that  always  retur7i 
love  for  love,  Geo.  T.  Angell. 


What  is  Overloading  a  Horse,  and  How 

Proved  ? 

By  GEORGE  T.  ANGELL, 

President  of  Uie  A  merican  Humane  Education  Society,  the  Massachusetts 

Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  and  the  Pare  fit 

American  Band  of  Mercy,  19. Milk  Street,  Boston. 

The  following,  taken  from  "  Bishop  on  Statutory  Crimes,^''  edi- 
tion of  1873,  P^ge  689,  is  believed  to  be  sound  law,  the  -world 
overy  on  the  above  subject. 

It  was  written  by  Mr.  Angell  in  reviewing  a  decision  of  a 
Massachusetts  Court  in  1868  that  there  was  no  cruelty  because 
other  horses  of  the  same  weight  were  able  to  draw  the  load  in 
question.  //  was  the  first  and  last  decision  of  the  kind  ever  ren- 
dered in  Massachusetts. 

"Must  an  animal  be  worked  until  he  breaks  a  blood  vessel  or 
drops  dead,  before  the  law  takes  cognizance .?  Is  the  horse  to 
be  strained,  or  worked  to  the  extreme  limit  of  his  strength,  be- 
fore such  straining  or  working  becomes  a  cruelty  (that  is,  before 
the  act  of  his  master  becomes  'overloading').''  Can  an  ex- 
pert, or  any  number  of  experts,  say  what  is  the  limit  of  strength 
or  endurance  of  any  horse,  simply  by  knowing  his  weight,'*  It 
seems  to  me  that  these  questions  can  be  easily  answered. 
Horses,  like  men,  are  of  different  ages,  constitutions,  tempera- 
ments, formation,  and  degrees  of  strength.  One  horse,  just  like 
one  man,  may  be  twice  as  fast,  twice  as  tough,  twice  as  strong, 
as  another  of  precisely  the  same  weight ;  and,  inasmuch  as  horses, 
like  men,  are  liable  to  a  great  variety  of  sicknesses,  and  suffer, 
just  like  men,  from  previous  overworking  and  from  heat,  want 
of  proper  rest,  food,  water,  shelter,  and  care,  it  follows  that  the 
same  horse,  like  the  same  man,  may  be  able  to  perform  without 
injury  more  labor  in  one  day  than  another. 

"  Can  a  thousand  experts  prove  that  all  men  of  a  given  weight 
or  size  are  equally  competent,  on  every  day  of  the  year,  to  per- 
form a  given  labor  ?  Can  their  testimony  establish  how  much 
load  a  man  of  given  weight  should  carry,  and  how  far  he  should 
carry  it  on  a  given  day,  without  regard  to  whether  the  man  is  old 
or  young,  sick  or  well,  strong  or  weak,  tough  or  tender,  already 
tired  or  rested,  full-fed  or  starved,  or  the  day  hot  or  cold }  And 
does  not  precisely  the  same  reason  apply  to  the  horse, —  that 
what  one  horse  can  do  one  day  has  no  force  in  showing  what  an- 
other ought  to  do  071  another  day,  unless  you  show  the  weather, 
age,  strength,  toughness,  and  bodily  condition  of  the  two  to 
be  precisely  similar.''  I  say,  then,  that  it  is  just  as  impossible 
for  any  number  of  experts,  knowing  only  the  weight  or  size  of  a 
horse  and  nothing  of  his  age,  health,  strength,  toughness,  and 
"bodily  condition,  to  establish  what  is,  or  is  not,  overloading 


Overloading  a  Horse  (concluded^. 

him,  as  it  would  be,  knowing  only  the  size  or  weight  of  a  man, 
and  nothing  of  his  age,  health,  strength,  toughness,  or  bodily 
condition,  to  establish  what  is  or  is  not  an  overload  for  him. 

"  How,  then,  are  we  to  determine  when  a  horse  is  overloaded? 
Just  exactly  and  precisely  as  we  determine  when  a  man  is  over- 
loaded. First,  -we  are  to  take  his  own  evidence.  If  a  man  stops 
and  says,  '  I  am  overloaded,  I  am  working  too  hard,  I  feel  that 
the  task  put  upon  me  is  too  heavy,'  that  is  evidence.  So  when 
the  horse,  ordinarily  kind  and  willing  to  pull,  comes  with  a 
heavy  load  to  a  rise  of  land  and,  after  one  or  two  efforts,  stops 
and  says,  as  plainly  as  words  can  speak  it,  '  I  am  overloaded,  I 
am  working  too  hard,  I  feel  that  the  task  put  upon  me  '.  too 
heavy,'  that  is  evidence;  and  there  is  no  court  or  jury,  oi  man 
with  the  heart  of  a  man,  who  will  not  recognize  it  as  such.  Be- 
sides, the  signs  of  overwork  are  just  as  visible  in  the  hor  \  as 
the  man.  No  magistrate  or  juror  would  have  any  difficui  y  in 
deciding  in  his  own  mind  whether  a  case  to  which  his  attention 
might  be  attracted  in  our  public  streets  was  or  was  not  a  case  of 
cruelty. 

"Is  not,  then,  the  testimony  of  competent,  intelligent,  and 
credible  bystanders,  who  see  how  the  horse  looks  and  acts,  and 
his  bodily  condition,  health,  and  capability  to  perform  the  labor 
required,  the  best  evidence  that  can  possibly  be  obtained? 
Where  can  you  get  better?  And  when  disinterested  and  intel- 
ligent witnesses,  who  are  present  and  see  and  hear  all  that  is 
said  and  done  in  a  given  case,  voluntarily  leave  their  ordinary 
avocations  and  come  into  court  to  testify  that  they  are  fully  sat- 
isfied that  the  case  is  a  clear  case  of  cruelty,  can  such  evidence 
be  overbalanced  by  that  of  any  number  of  experts  who  are  not 
present,  see  nothing  that  occurs,  know  nothing  of  the  age, 
health,  strength,  or  bodily  condition  of  the  horse  at  the  time, 
and  who  base  their  calculations  simply  upon  the  avoirdupois 
weight  of  the  animal  ?  It  is  perfectly  evident,  then,  I  say,  that  the 
highest  and  best  evidence  which  any  court  or  jury  can  ask  or  pos- 
sibly obtain  in  a  case  of  overloading,  overworking,  or  overdriv- 
ing, is  the  evidence  of  the  horse  himself,  as  interpreted  by  those 
present  when  the  cruelty  is  inflicted. 

"  Cruelty  begins  very  far  short  of  taking  the  extreme  strength 
of  the  animal.  God  has  given  to  men  and  animals  an  excess  of 
strength,  to  be  husbanded  carefully  and  used  occasionally.  But 
to  task  that  strength  to  its  full  limit  unnecessarily  is  against  na- 
ture, breaks  down  the  man  or  the  animal  before  his  or  its  time, 
and  is  a  cruelty  against  which  men,  having  speech  and  reason, 
may  protect  themselves,  but  against  which  animals,  having  neither 
speech  nor  reason  like  men.,  t?iust  look  to  them  for  protections"^ 


Extract  from  Address  of  Mr.  Angell  to  the 
Annual  Meeting  of  "The  American  Social 
Science  Association,"  in  New  York  City, 
May  21,    1874. 

EASY   TO    INTEREST   CHILDREN. 

"  It  is  very  easy  to  enlist  the  sympathies  of  children  in  the 
animal  world.  Take,  for  instance,  the  history  and  habits 
of  birds :  show  how  wonderfully  they  are  created ;  how  kind 
to  their  young;  how  useful  to  agriculture;  what  power 
they  have  in  flight.  The  swallow  that  flies  sixty  miles  an 
hour,  or  the  frigate  bird  which,  in  the  words  of  Audubon, 
*  flies  with  the  velocity  of  a  meteor,'  and,  according  to  Mi- 
chelet,  can  float  at  an  elevation  of  ten  thousand  feet,  and 
cross  the  tropical  Atlantic  Ocean  in  a  single  night ;  or  those 
birds  of  beauty  and  of  song,  the  oriole,  the  linnet,  the  lark, 
and,  sweetest  of  all,  the  nightingale,  whose  voice  caused 
one  of  old  to  exclaim,  'Lord,  what  music  hast  thou  pro- 
vided for  saints  in  heaven,  when  thou  hast  afforded  such 
music  for  men  on  earth  ? ' 

'•  Or,  take  that  wonderful  beast  of  the  desert,  the  camel, 
which,  nourished  by  its  own  humps  of  fat,  and  carrying  its 
own  reservoirs  of  water,  pursues  it  toilsome  way  across 
pathless  deserts  for  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  man. 

^^  Is  it  not  easy  to  carry  up  the  minds  and  hearts  of  chil- 
dren by  thoughts  like,  these  from  the  creature  to  the  infi- 
nitely wise,  good,  and  powerful  Creator  ? 

"  I  believe  there  is  a  great  defect  in  our  systems  of  edu- 
cation. I  believe  that  in  our  public  schools  it  is  quite  as 
possible  to  develop  the  heart  as  the  intellect,  and  that  when 
this  is  required  and  done,  we  shall  not  only  have  higher 
protection  for  dumb  creatures,  and  so  increased  length  of 
human  life,  but  also  human  life  better  developed  and  better 
worth  living.  I  believe  that  the  future  student  of  Ameri- 
can history  will  v/onder,  that  in  the  public  schools  of  a  free 
government  whose  very  existence  depended  upon  public 
integrity  and  morals,  so  much  attention  should  have  beeyt 
paid  to  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect,  and  so  little  to  the 
cultivation  of  the  heart J^ 


Extract  from  Address  of  Mr.  Angell  before 
the  "  International  Congress  of  Educators," 
at  New  Orleans,  Louisiana,  Feb.  26,  1  885. 

"The  wonderful  growth  of  societies  for  the  prevention 
of  cruelty  to  animals  is  a  subject  with  which  probably  some 
of  you  are  familiar ;  how  they  have  stretched  out  their  pro- 
tecting arms,  not  only  in  this  country,  but  in  Europe,  Asia, 
Africa,  and  many  islands  of  various  oceans,  numbering 
among  their  members  many  of  the  noblest,  best,  and  most 
illustrious  of  the  world's  citizens.  In  England  the  Royal 
Society  is  under  the  patronage  of  the  Queen,  and  its  Presi- 
dent a  member  of  the  Queen's  Privy  Council. 

"  The  first  audience  I  had  the  pleasure  of  addressing 
there  some  years  ago  was  presided  over  by  one  of  the 
most  learned  men  in  England,  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Glouces- 
ter and  Bristol,  and  the  gentleman  who  moved  the  vote  of 
thanks  was  Field  Marshal  Sir  John  Burgoyne,  very  near 
the  head  of  the  British  army;  the  second  was  at  the  house 
of  the  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts  —  probably,  next  to  the 
Queen,  the  most  highly  respected  woman  in  England. 

"  In  France,  Germany,  and  elsewhere,  wherever  I  have 
traveled  in  Europe,  I  have  found  the  same.  One  German 
society  numbers  among  its  members  twenty-three  generals 
and  over  two  hundred  officers  of  the  German  army. 

"In  my  own  State  of  Massachusetts,  I  think  that  no 
charitable  society  of  the  State  has  on  its  roll  of  officers  and 
members  more  distinguished  and  influential  names  than 
Ae  Massachusetts  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cnte/fy 
to  Animals.  I  think  that  no  society  in  the  State  is  better 
known,  or  more  popular. 

"  But,  in  the  limited  period  allotted  me,  one  thing  I  do 
have  time  to  tell  you;  and  that  is,  that  we  long  ago  found 
that  the  great  remedy  for  all  these  wrongs  lies,  not  in  laws 
and  prosecuting  officers,  but ^  in  the  public  and  private  - 
schools ;  that  a  thousand  cases  of  cruelty  can  be  prevented 
by  kind  words  and  humane  educ^jtioJi,  for  every  one  that 
can  be  prevented  by  prosecution.^^ 


Extract  from  Mr.  Angell's  Address  to  the 
Annual  Meeting  of  "The  National  Associ- 
ation of  Superintendents  of  Public  Schools," 
at  Washington,  D.  C,  Feb.  14,  1884. 

"Nearly  all  the  criminals  of  the  future,  the  thieves, 
burglars,  incendiaries,  and  murderers,  are  now  in  our 
public  schools,  and  with  them  the  greater  criminals  who 
commit  national  crimes.  They  are  in  our  public  schools 
now,  and  we  are  educating  them.  We  can  mould  them 
now  if  we  will.  To  illustrate  the  power  of  education:  We 
know  that  we  can  make  the  same  boy  Protestant,  Roman 
Catholic,  or  Mohammedan.  It  is  simply  a  question  of 
education.  We  may  put  into  his  little  hands,  as  first 
toys,  whips,  guns,  and  swords,  or  may  teach  him,  as  the 
Quakers  do,  that  war  and  cruelty  are  crimes.  We  may 
teach  him  to  shoot  the  little  song-bird  in  springtime,  with 
its  nest  full  of  young,  or  we  may  teach  him  to  feed  the 
bird  and  spare  its  nest.  We  may  go  into  the  schools  now 
with  book,  picture,  song,  and  story,  and  make  neglected 
boys  merciful,  or  we  may  let  them  drift,  until,  as  men, 
they  become  sufficiently  lawless  and  cruel  to  throw  our 
railway  trains  off  the  track,  place  dynamite  under  our 
dwelling  houses  or  public  buildings,  assassinate  our  Pres- 
ident, burn  half  our  city,  or  involve  the  nation  in  civil  war. 

"  Is  it  not  largely.,  if  not  wholly.,  a  question  of  education  ? 

"  I  am  sometimes  asked,  '  Why  do  you  spend  so  much 
of  your  time  and  money  in  talking  about  kindness  to  ani- 
mals, when  there  is  so  much  cruelty  to  men  >  And  I 
answer,  */  am  working  at  the  roots.''  Every  humane  pub- 
lication, every  lecture,  every  step,  in  doing  or  teaching 
kindness  to  them,  is  a  step  to  prevent  crime  —  a  step  in 
promoting  the  growth  of  those  qualities  of  heart  which 
will  elevate  human  souls,  even  in  the  dens  of  sin  ana 
shame,  and  prepare  the  way  for  the  coming  of  peace  on 
earth  and  good  will  to  men. 


Mr.  AngeWs  Address  {concluded^. 

"There  are  hundreds  of  thousands  of  parents  among 
the  depraved  and  criminal  classes  of  this  country  whom 
no  child  can  be  taught  to  love,  or  ought  to  be.  There 
are  hundreds  of  thousands  of  homes  where  the  name  of 
the  Almighty  is  never  heard,  except  in  words  of  blas- 
phemy. But  there  is  not  a  child  in  one  of  those  homes 
that  may  not  be  taught  in  our  public  schools  to  feed  the 
birds  and  pat  the  horses,  and  enjoy  making  happy  all 
harmless  creatures  it  meets  on  the  street,  and  so  be  doing 
acts  of  kindness  forty  times  a  day,  which  will  make  it  not 
only  happier,  but  better,  and  more  merciful  in  all  the  rela- 
tions of  life. 

"  Standing  before  you  as  the  advocate  of  the  lower  races, 
I  declare  what  I  believe  cannot  be  gainsaid  —  that  just  so 
soon  and  so  far  as  we  pour  into  all  our  schools  the  songs, 
poems,  and  literature  of  mercy  towards  these  lower  crea- 
tures, just  so  soofi  and  so  far  shall  we  reach  the  roots  ?iot 
only  of  cruelty  but  of  crime.  ^^ 

Mr.  Richards  introduced  the  following,  which  was 
adopted :  — 

^^ Resolved,  That  we  heartily  approve  of  the  ^American 
Bands  of  Mercy^  and  welcome  their  introduction  into  the 
public  schools  of  our  country  to  aid  in  the  moral  education 
of  our  people.^'' 


In  the  winter  of  1885-6,  by  tmanimous  vote  of  the  Boston 
School  Committee,  Mr.  Angell  addressed  the  sixty-one 
large  Normal,  Latin,  High,  and  Grammar  Schools  of  Bos- 
ton one  hour  each.  In  March,  1887,  by  unanim,07is  vote 
of  the  School  Co}?i7nittee,  he  caused  about  sixty  thousand 
copies  of  the  Massachusetts  Society's  humane  publica- 
tions to  be  distributed  to  the  pupils  of  the  Boston  Public 
Schools. 


Founders  of  American  Band  of  Mercy. 

GEORGE  T.  ANGELL  and  Rev.  THOMAS  TIMMINS. 

Ofl&cers  of  Parent  American  Band  of  Mercy. 

George  T.  Angell,  President; 

Joseph  L.  Stevens,  Secretary. 

Over  eighteen  thousand  branches  of   the  Parent   American  Band  of 

Mercy  have  been  formed,  with  probably  over  a  million 

members.     They  are   in   every   State  and 

every  Territory  except  Alaska. 

PLEDGE. 
"I  will  try  to  be  kind  to  all  harmless  living:  Creatures, 
and  try  to  protect  them  from  eruel  usage." 

Any  Band  of  Mercy  member  who  wishes  can  cross  out  the  word  harmless. 
from  his  or  her  pledge.  M.  S.  P.  C.  A.  on  our  badges  mean  "  Merciful  Soci- 
ety Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Ally 

We  send  without  cost,  to  every  person  asking,  a  copy  of  "  Band 
of  Mercy  "  information  and  other  publications. 

Also,  without  cost,  to  every  person  who  writes  that  he  or  she 
has  formed  a  '■^  Band  of  Mercy''''  by  obtaining  the  signatures  of 
thirty  adults  or  children  or  both  —  either  signed,  or  authorized 
to  be  signed-^  to  the  pledge,  also  the  name  chosen  for  the  '■'■  Band,^^ 
and  the  name  and  post-office  address  [towTi  and  state]  of  the  Pres- 
ident : 

I.  Our  monthly  paper,  "Our  Dumb  Animals,"  full  of  inter- 
esting stories  and  pictures,  ybr  one  yecir^ 


American  Band  of  Mercy  {concluded'). 

2 .  Copy  of  Band  of  Mercy  Songs. 

3.  Twelve  Lessons  on  Kindness  to  Animals^  containing  many 
anecdotes. 

4.  Eight  Humane  Leaflets,  containing  pictures  and  one  hun- 
dred selected  stories  and  poems. 

5.  For  the  President,  an  imitation  gold  badge. 

The  head  officers  of  Juvenile  Temperance  Associations  and 
teachers  and  Sunday-school  teachers  should  be  Presidents  of 
15ands  of  Mercy. 

Nothing  is  required  to  be  a  member,  but  to  sign  the  pledge  or 
authorize  it  to  be  signed. 

Any  intelligent  boy  or  girl  fourteen  years  old  can  form  a 
Band  with  no  cost,  and  receive  what  we  offer,  as  before  stated. 

To  those  who  wish  badges,  song  and  hymn  books,  cards  of 
membership,  and  a  membership  book  for  each  band,  the  prices 
are,  for  badges,  gold  or  silver  imitation,  eight  cents;  ribbon, 
four  cents ;  song  and  hymn  books,  with  fifty-two  songs  and 
hymns,  two  cents ;  cards  of  membership,  two  cents ;  and  mem- 
bership book,  eight  cents.  The  "  Twelve  Lessons  on  Kindness 
to  Animals"  cost  only  two  cents  for  the  whole,  bound  together 
in  one  pamphlet.  The  Humane  Leaflets  cost  twenty-five  cents 
a  hundred,  or  eight  for  five  cents. 

A  Good  Order  of  Exercises  for  Band  of  Mercy  Meetings. 

1.  Sing  Band  of  Mercy  song  or  Hymn,  and  repeat  the  Pledge  together. 
[See  Melodies.]  . 

2.  Remarks  by  President,  and  reading  of  Report  of  last  Meetmg  by  Secre- 
tary. 

3.  Readings,  Recitations,  "Memory  Gems,"  and  Anecdotes  of  good  and 
noble  sayings,  and  deeds  done  to  both  human  and  dumb  creatures,  with  vocal 
and  instrumental  music. 

4.  Sing  Band  of  Mercy  song  or  hymn. 

5.  A  brief  address.  Members  may  then  tell  what  they  have  done  to  make 
human  and  dumb  creatures  happier  and  better. 

6.  Enrollment  of  new  members. 

7.  Sing  Band  of  Mercy  song  or  hymn. 

Everybody,  old  or  young,  who  wants  to  do  a  kind  act,  to  make  the 
world  happier  or  better,  is  invited  to  address,  by  letter  or  postali 

GEORGE  T.  ANGELL, 

President  of  the  A  merican  Humane  Education  Society,  the  Massachusetts 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  A  nimals,  and  the  Parent 
American  Band  of  Mercy,  19  Milk  Street,  Boston. 


OUR   DUMB  ANIMALS. 

Monthly  Organ  of  the  American  Hiwiane  Education 

Society  and  the  Massachusetts  Society  for  the 

Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals. 

What  the  Press  say  about  it.    A  Few  from  Hundreds  of  Recent  Kotioes. 

1.  All  who  sympathize  with  kindness  will  be  delighted  with  a  copy  of 
Giir  Dumb  Animals.  No  more  entertaining  or  more  useful  reading  can 
be  put  into  the  hands  of  children.  The  pictures  are  as  good  as  the 
text.  —  Nezv  2'ork  Tribune. 

2.  Always  a  welcome  guest  to  our  editorial  table.  —  Bangor  Daily 
Commercial. 

3.  Attractive  sheet  —  should  be  in  every  household.  — Atiffusta  Age, 

4.  Illustrated  and  attractive  monthly.  —  Springfield  Republican. 

5.  Admirable  publication.  —  Burlington  Ha-vkeye. 

6.  A  beautiful  paper.  —  Southern  Cultivator  (Atlanta,  Ga.). 

7.  Its  attractive  pictures  catch  the  eye,  and  its  short  pathetic  stories 
toucli  the  hearts  of  readers,  young  and  old.  —  Zion's  Herald  (Boston), 

8.  Excellent  monthly,-  always  readable,  and  its  anecdotes  and  stories* 
always  point  a  wholesome  moral.  —  Bostoji  Times. 

9.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  call  attention  to  Our  Dumb  Aftimals.  It  is  suit-- 
able  for  children  and  adults,  the  home,  and  the  Sunday-school. —  The 
Beacon  (Boston). 

10.  Full  of  entertaining  reading.  — -Boston  Pilot. 

11.  No  journal  more  cleverly  conducted  ever  pleaded  a  worthy  cause. 
—  Lyceum  (Washington,  D.  C). 

12.  Worth  five  times  its  price,  and  should  be  found  in  every  home. — 
West  Virginia  Argus. 

13.  Its  every  page  is  animated  by  a  loving  spirit,  which  makes  it  inval- 
uable in  a  family  where  there  are  children.  —  Daily  Herald  (Norris- 
town.  Pa.). 

14.  It  should  be  on  every  library  table.  —  Germantorvn  (Pa.).  Gazette. 

15.  Publication  in  every  way  worthy  of  encouragement.  —  Baltimore 
Nezvs. 

16.  We  advise  every  parent  and  teacher  to  send  for  it.  .We  do  not 
know  of  any  other  publication  so  full  of  things  to  keep  the  hearts  of  the 
young  tender  towards  all  that  breath.  — School  Education  (St.  Paul  and 
Minneapolis). 

17.  One  of  the  most  interesting  exchanges  that  come  to  our  table.  — 
Catholic  Knight  (Cleveland,  Ohio). 

18.  Of  all  the  publications  which  reach  this  office,  Our  Dumb  Animals, 
of  Boston,  is  the  one  which  inspires  the  purest  and  tenderest  thoughts.  — 
The  Pui7iam  (West  Virginia)  Democrat. 


For  p7'ices  see  last  cover. 
TEACHERS  AND  CANVASSERS. 

Teachers  can  have  '■'■Cur  Diunb  Animals''^  one  year  for 
twenty-five  cents. 

Canvassers  can  have  sample  copies  free,  and  retain  one  half 
of  every  fifty  cent  subscription.  Address, 

GEORGE  T.  ANGELL, 

President  of  the  A  merican  Htmiane  Educatio7i  Society,  the  Massach^tsetts 

Society  for  tlie  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  A  ?iimals,  and  the  Parent 

American  Band  of  Mercy,  19  Milk  Stkeet,  Boston. 


